******  **"** 

~  PRINCETON,  N.  J.  <f* 


Presented  by  M/.  Samuel  Agnew  of  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Sti/ioit  ^. 

»  '  \  v. )  LJ 


Number 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://www.archive.org/details/scenesimpressionOOrock 


SCENES 


AND 


IMPRESSIONS   ABROAD. 


SCENES 


IMPEESSIONS 


ABEOAD. 


REV.   J.   e/rOCKWELL,    D.  D. 


NEW    YORK: 

ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS, 

No.     J>  3  0     BKOADWAT. 
18G0. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  I860,  by 

ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


EDWARD   O.   JENKINS, 

Printer*  &tcrrotDper, 
No.  26  Frankfort  Street. 


TO    MY   WIFE, 

WHOSE  SOCIETY  WAS  THE  CHARM  WHICH  MADE  THESE  SCENES 
DELIGHTFUL  AND   MEMORABLE; 

TO  MY   PARENTS, 

WHOSE    INSTRUCTIONS    AND    COUNSELS    HAVE    EVER    BEEN 
WISE,  FAITHFUL   AND   SAFE; 

TO  THE  CENTRAL  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH  OF  BROOKLYN, 

WHOSE  SYMPATHY    AND  EARNEST  CO-OPERATION  HAVE    MADE 
MY  WORK  AS  A  PASTOR  PLEASANT; 

THIS    VOLUME   IS    DEDICATED   WITH  EVERY  FEELING   OF 
RESPECT  AND  AFFECTION    BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


The  substance  of  these  Scenes  and  Impres- 
sions Abroad  was  presented  in  the  form  of  a 
Series  of  Lectures,  before  the  congregation  to 
which  it  is  my  pleasure  to  minister,  without  a 
thought  of  giving  to  them  any  farther  pub- 
licity Unexpectedly  they  enlisted  such  atten- 
tion and  apparent  interest,  as  that  it  became 
necessary  to  adjourn  from  my  Lecture  Room, 
where  they  were  commenced,  to  the  main 
Auditory  of  the  Church,  which  place  was  filled 
every  Wednesday  evening  for  three  months. 
Most  of  the  Lectures  were  very  fully  reported 
in  the  columns  of  the  Transcript^  of  this  city, 
with  kind  and  courteous  notices  of  the  course. 
At  the  request  of  many  who  heard  them,  or 
who   had   read    the   reports    of  them,    and    in 


Vlll  PREFACE 

whose  judgment  I  have  confidence,  they  have 
been  revised  and  published  in  the  form  in 
which  they  now  appear. 

I  have  attempted  nothing  in  these  Lectures 
but  a  familiar  and  faithful  description  of  a  few 
of  the  more  important  features  of  the  usual 
route  of  European  tourists,  presuming  that  a 
minute  detail  of  some  of  the  principal  and  most 
interesting  sights,  which  might  be  taken  as  a 
sample  of  the  whole,  would  be  preferable  to  a 
more  general  and  hence  less  definite  description 
of  all. 

The  reader  will  find  here  only  the  familiar 
utterances  of  one,  who  having  returned  from  a 
pleasant  journey,  wishes  to  share,  as  far  as 
possible,  with  his  friends  whom  he  left  behind 
him,  the  pleasures  which  he  has  enjoyed.  This 
rich  field  has  been  so  often  reaped,  that  the 
author  can  only  hope  to  bring  in  a  few  glean- 
ings. If  here  and  there  is  found  a  sheaf  or  a 
flower  that  may  be  profitable  or  pleasant,  his 
highest  wishes  will  be  met  and  satisfied. 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  Feb.,  1860. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  — OUTWARD  BOUND. 

A  Sabbath  at  Sea  —  Icebergs  —  Sea  Life  —  An  Irish  Pilot  — 
Dieppe  —  Rouen  —  Church  of  St.  Ouen  —  Notre  Dame,  page  27 

II.  —  PARIS. 

Philosophy  —  Historical  —  The  Seine  —  The  Tuileries  —  Obe- 
lisk of  Luxor  —  Parisian  Life  —  Bois  De  Boulogne  —  Bastile  — 
St.  Roch  — The  Madeline, 50 

III.  —  CHURCHES  AND   PALACES  OF  PARIS. 

Notre  Dame  —  Imperial  Cortege  —  St.  Germain  L  Auxerrois 
—  St.  Bartholomew's  Eve  —  Sainte  Chapelle  —  Versailles  —  Re- 
collections—  Galleries  —  A  Sad   Truth  —  Petite  Trianon,         72 

IV.  —  PARIS  TO  LYONS. 

The  Louvre  —  Hotel  De  Cluny  —  Fontainbleau  —  The  Ameri- 
can Consul  at  Lyons  —  Church  of  St.  Ireneus  —  St.  Jean  — 
Silk  Manufactories  —  Protestantism  —  Religious  Liberty,      .      87 


X  CONTENTS. 

V.  — LYONS  TO  NAPLES. 

Montalimar  —  Nismes  and  Aries  —  Bay  of  Naples  — Getting 
Ashore  —  A  Pleasant  Ride  —  Pompeii  —  Amphitheatre  —  Tragic 
Theatre  —  Diomed  —  The  Overthrow —  Contrasts,       .       .      110 

VI.  —  ROME. 

Civita  Vecchia  —  A  Panorama  —  The  Pope-Relics  —  The  Cap- 
itol —  The  Bambino  —  Villa  Albano 135 

Vn.  — ROME  AND  ITS  CHURCHES. 

"The  Church  at  Rome"  —  Popery — Sights  of  Rome  —  St. 
Peter's  —  Statistical  —  Grandeur  —  Decorations  —  The  Vatican  — 
Illumination  of  St.  Peter's  —  Babylon,        ....     157 

VIH.  — ROME  TO  FLORENCE. 

Leaving  Rome  —  A  Night  Passage  —  Leghorn  —  San  Lorenzo 
—  Medicean  Chapel  —  Galileo  —  Miseracordia,         .        .        182 

IX.  — FLORENCE  TO  TURIN. 

Beautiful  Italy  —  The  Papal  Church  —  Genoa  —  Sardinia  — 
Turin  —  Pignerol  —  La  Tour  —  The  Vaudois  —  Church  of  Co- 
pies —  Waldensian  Worship  —  Historical,         .         .         .         208 

X.  — THE  ALPS. 

Susa  —  Diligence  Riding  —  An  Alpine  Pass  —  Lanslebourg  — 
Geneva  —  Chillon  —  Cretins  —  Alpine  Scenery  —  Sunrise  at  Cha- 
mouni  —  Mer  De  Glace  —  Crossing  a  Glacier  —  Forclaz  —  The 
Col  De  Balme  —  Interlaken 235 


CONTENTS.  XI 

XI.  — THE  RHINE. 

Jungfrau  —  Staubbach  —  Berne  —  The  Rigi  —  Lake  Luzerne — 
Basle  —  Baden  Baden  —  Conversation  haus  —  Gambling  —  Basle 
Mayence  —  Rhine  Boats  —  The  Mouse  Tower  — Ehrenbreitstein  — 
Cologne  —  Amsterdam  —  Rotterdam  —  Antwerp  —  Brussels  — 
Waterloo, 267 

XII.  —  ENGLAND. 

Dover  —  An  English  Inn  —  London  —  Westminster  Abbey  — 
Houses  of  Parliament  —  The  Temple  —  Business  Haunts  —  The 
Tower  —  Zoological  Gardens  —  Sydenham  —  British  Museum  — 
Hampton  Court  —  Windsor  Castle  —  Oxford  —  Stratford  on  Avon 
Kenilworth,     ...••....        295 

XIII.  —  SCOTLAND,  IRELAND,  HOME. 

Scottish  Scenery  —  Melrose  Abbey  —  Edinburgh  —  Holyrood  — 
John  Knox  —  St.  Giles'  Church  —  The  Castle  —  Arthur's  Seat  — 
The  Sabbath  —  Sterling  Castle  —  The  Trossachs  —  Loch  Lomond 
■ —  Glasgow  —  Dumfries  —  A  Scotch  Welcome  —  Liverpool  — 
Dublin  —  Cork  —  Queenstown  —  An  Irish  Jaunting  Car  —  Home- 
ward Bouud  —  A  Storm  at  Sea  —  A  Night  in  a  Gale  —  Sea 
.Amusements  —  Home  Again,    ......         340 


- 
PEIITCST 


SCENES  AND  IMPRESSIONS 
ABROAD. 


I. 

OUTWARD    BOUND. 

IT  is  my  purpose,  as  far  as  possible,  to  re- 
produce the  scenes  through  which  it  has 
been  my  pleasure  to  pass  during  my  absence 
from  home  in  search  of  health — for  the  entire 
restoration  of  which  I  desire  here  to  render  my 
thanks  to  that  God  who  has  watched  over  us 
while  Ave  have  been  absent  one  from  another. 
It  is  my  sincere  wish  that  you  may  enjoy  with 
me,  the  journey  which  I  have  accomplished; 
and  to  this  end  I  propose,  in  a  series  of  familiar 
lectures,  to  bring  before  you,  as  distinctly  as  I 
may  be  able,  the  lands  which  I  have  visited  and 
2 


10  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  impressions  I  have  received.     When  I  found 
my  health  rapidly  giving  way,  after  eighteen 
years  of  ministerial  labor,   one  half  of   which 
has  been  devoted  to  this  church,  you  kindly 
and  cheerfully  assented  to  my  request  for  leave 
of  absence;    and  on  the  7th  of  May,  in  com- 
pany with  my  wTife  and  a  mutual  friend,  we 
left  in  the  steamer  City  of  Washington,  Captain 
Petrie,  for  Liverpool.     A  crowd  of  friends  were 
present  to  bid  us  farewell,  and,  as  the  noble 
vessel  swung  away  from  her  moorings,"waved  us 
their  kind  adieus.     The  ship's  cannon  thundered 
forth  their   rough  salute,  which  was  answered 
by  echoes  from  the  shore.     We  felt  that   we 
were  afloat,  and  every  moment  separating  more 
and  more  widely  from  all  we  loved  and  held 
dear.      At  Sandy  Hook  we  parted  with   our 
pilot,  by  whom  we  sent  messages  home,  and 
were  soon  rocking  upon  the  restless  waves  of 
the  open  sea. 

Sabbath,  May  8. — Rose  early  to  breathe  the 
fresh  and  invigorating  air  of  the  morning.  One 
must  be  hopelessly  an  invalid  who  could  not 
drink   in   health  with    this  fresh  and  bracing 


A    SABBATH    AT    SEA.  11 

breeze  that  is  bearing  us  onward  thus  rapidly 
along  the  great  highway  of  the  ocean.  At  half 
past  ten  the  bell  tolled  for  the  regular  Sabbath 
service.  The  passengers  were  gathered  upon 
the  quarter-deck,  occupying  seats  which  had 
been  prepared  for  them,  while  the  crew,  in  their 
neat  blue  jackets,  filled  the  boats  that  were 
swung  upon  either  side.  A  capstan,  neatly 
draped  with  flags,  served  for  a  pulpit,  which,  at 
the  request  of  Captain  Petrie,  I  occupied. 

In  accordance  with  the  regulations  of  the  New 
York,  Philadelphia  and  Liverpool  Steamship 
Company,  I  read  the  Service  of  the  Church  of 
England,  adding,  in  the  prayer  for  the  Queen, 
the  name  of  the  President  of  the  United  States. 
The  subject  of  my  discourse  was,  "  The  Chris- 
tian Hope,  the  Anchor  to  the  Soul."  Drawing 
my  illustrations  as  much  as  possible  from  the 
sea,  I  endeavored,  I  think  "with  some  success,  to 
enlist  the  attention  and  interest  of  the  sailors. 
It  was  a  novel  and  pleasant  scene,  that  hour  of 
worship  in  the  open  air,  upon  the  deck  of  a 
vessel  that  was  plowing  its  way  through  the 
ocean.     And  it  was  a  delightful  thought,  that 


12  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the. same  God  who  was  listening  to  the  worship 
of  loved  ones  at  home,  and  of  tens  of  thousands 
who  were  gathered  in  solemn  temples  to  praise 
His  name,  was  also  upon  the  sea,  ready  and  will- 
ing to  hear  the  prayers  of  His  people,  and  to 
accept  the  tribute  of  their  thanks. 

At  12  o'clock  our  position  was  found  to  be 
lat.  40°  21',  long.  68°  31';  distance  run  255 
miles.  Monday,  9th,  lat.  41°  46',  long.  62°  50'; 
distance  run,  271  miles.  The  weather  is  hazy, 
but  clear  enough  to  give  us  our  first  view  of  a 
whale,  whose  presence  is  indicated  by  the  water 
which  he  occasionally  throws  up  in  a  jet,  and 
which  descends  in  a  shower  of  spray. 

Tuesday,  10th.— Lat.  43°  21',  long.  58°  21' ; 
distance  run,  230  miles.  Passed  a  vessel  home- 
ward bound,  and  as  we  thought  of  the  fair  land 
that  would  soon  open  upon  her  crew,  we  could 
not  but  repeat  the  words  we  had  so  often  heard 
amid  the  songs  of  youth : 

"While  the  waves  are  round  me  breaking 
As  I  pace  the  deck  alone, 
And  my  eye  in  vain  is  seeking 
Some  green  leaf  to  rest  upon ; 


ICEBERGS.  13 

What  would  I  not  give  to  wander 

"Where  my  loved  companions  dwell  ? 
Absence  makes  the  heart  grow  fonder : 

Isle  of  beauty,  fare  thee  well." 

Wednesday,  11th.— Lat.  46°  17',  long.  53°  55' ; 
distance  run,  237  miles.  To-day  we  obtained 
our  first  view  of  those  wonderful  gifts  of  the 
Polar  regions,  "  icebergs."  The  sea  was  as 
calm  as  a  lake,  and  the  sky  clear  and  cloudless. 
Far  in  the  distance  was  seen  a  bright  and  glit- 
tering object,  which,  as  we  neared  it,  proved  to 
be  one  of  those  unwelcome  visitants  of  the 
American  waters,  which,  being  formed  far  up 
amid  the  sea  of  ice  which  surrounds  the  Polar 
circle,  are  broken  off  in  vast  masses  from  their 
native  glaciers,  and,  by  the  action  of  the  winds 
and  the  waves,  floated  down  towards  the  warmer 
regions  of  the  south,  when,  after  too  often  put- 
ting in  jeopardy  the  life  of  the  sailor,  they  are 
gradually  dissolved  and  disappear.  As  they 
melt  away,  they  assume  an  almost  endless  va- 
riety of  shapes,  and,  when  seen  at  a  distance, 
might  be  taken  for  castles,  and  ships,  and 
churches,  or  cottages.    Some  of  them  are  of  great 


14  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

extent,  and  are  exceedingly  dangerous  neigh- 
bors, when,  as  was  the  case  with  us,  they  appear 
during  a  fog.  The  cry,  "  Hard  a'  port,"  early 
one  morning,  brought  those  of  us  who  were 
up  to  the  deck,  just  in  time  to  see  one  of  them 
float  by  us,  near  enough  to  have  leaped  upon 
it. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  fourteen  icebergs 
were  in  sight,  one  of  them  being  of  immense 
extent.  Towards  evening  we  passed  Cape  Race, 
and  signalized  the  station,  in  the  hope  that  our 
passage  thus  far  might  be  communicated  to  our 
friends  at  home.  Just  at  sunset  we  caught 
sight  of  the  harbor  of  St.  John's,  ten  miles  dis- 
tant, the  last  land  we  shall  see  until  we  sight 
the  shores  of  Ireland. 

Thursday,  12th.— Lat.  49°  14',  long.  49°  9'  ; 
distance  run,  254  miles.  As  there  is  nothing  of 
especial  interest,  except  looking  out  upon  a 
boundless  ocean,  we  may  as  well  take  a  general 
view  of  sea  life.  Our  company  is  large  and 
pleasant,  consisting  .of  over  100  cabin  and  200 
steerage  passengers,  with  a  captain  who  knows 
how  to  sail  a  ship  and  to  make  his  passengers 


SEA    LIFE.  15 

comfortable  and  happy.  When  off  duty  he 
has  a  kind  word  for  all.  His  officers  are  quiet 
and  gentlemanly,  and  his  crew  orderly  and  well- 
behaved.  The  chief  amusement  on  ship-board 
is  eating  and  drinking.  Breakfast  at  9,  lunch 
at  12,  dinner  at  4,  tea  at  7,  and  supper  at  10. 
The  hours  are  divided  into  watches,  indicated 
by  bells  every  half  hour.  The  first  watch  be- 
ginning at  4  and  ending  at  8 ;  the  second  from 
8  to  12;  the  third  from  12  to  4;  and  the  dog 
watch  from  4  to  6  and  from  6  to  8.  At  eight 
bells,  which  indicates  the  commencement  of  a 
new  watch,  the  officers  and  hands  on  duty  re- 
tire, and  the  boatswain's  whistle  calls  the  sleep- 
ers to  their  posts ;  the  boatswain,  in  this  case, 
being  of  the  most  conventional  order,  a  fat  and 
jolly  old  sea-dog,  who  rolls  over  the  deck,  and 
sports  his  silver  whistle  with  the  most  evident 
pride  and  satisfaction,  and  gives  to  its  notes  a 
nourish  which  only  an  old  salt  can  appreciate. 
At  9  o'clock  observations  are  made  for  latitude, 
and  at  12  the  longitude  is  taken,  after  which 
the  result  is  posted  upon  the  bulletin,  and  day 
by  day  we  are  thus  able  to  map  down  our  place 


16  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

upon  the  ocean.  There  is  a  good  library  on 
board,  which  serves  to  while  away  our  leisure 
hours. 

Friday,  13//*.— Lat.  51°  11',  long.  42°  45'. 
Distance,  275  miles.  Wind  "W.  N.  W.,  increas- 
ing, and  the  ship  rolling  heavily.  Found  it 
necessary  to  use  guards  at  table. 

Saturday,  \Uh— Lat.  51°  12',  long.  35°  25'. 
Distance,  277  miles.  Lightning  and  cloudy, 
with  fresh  breeze. 

Sunday,  loth.— Lat  51°  11,  long.  27°  40'. 
Distance,  295  miles.  Preached  from  the  text, 
"  How  shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  so  great 
salvation  V 

We  held  also  a  service  in  the  steerage  amid  a 
large  and  attentive  audience. 

It  was  pleasant  to  meet  there  a  Christian 
friend  who  had  provided  himself  with  a  bundle 
of  tracts,  published  by  the  Presbyterian  Board, 
and  to  see  here  and  there  persons  engaged  with 
evident  interest  and  seriousness  in  reading  these 
little  messengers  of  mercy. 

Monday,  16?//..— Lat.  51°  14',  long.  18°  58'. 
Distance,  293  miles. 


AN    IRISH   PILOT.  17 

Tuesday,  11th.— Lat.  51°  53,  long.  12°  47'. 
Distance,  272  miles.  Obtained  our  first  sight  of 
the  Irish  coast  at  6  P.  M.  The  long  twilights 
are  a  marked  feature  of  our  high  Northern  lati- 
tude. At  9  o'clock  in  the  evening  there  was 
still  sufficient  of  daylight  to  enable  me  to  make 
an  entry  in  my  note-book,  which  was  written  off 
the  Skellig  Rocks,  making  for  Cape  Clear  50 
miles  distant. 

Wednesday,  May  l%th.—A.t  5  o'clock  A.  M. 
took  on  board  an  Irish  pilot  off  the  Old  Head 
of  Kinsail.  He  was  a  rare  specimen, — coming 
on  board  in  a  dress  which  might  have  been  new 
once,  but  at  a  very  distant  period.  As  we  were 
anxious  to  hear  the  news  from  Europe,  we  asked 
if  he  had  any  papers.  He  said,  "  Yes,  but  they 
were  a  week  old,  and  had  gone  ashore  in  the 
boat."  We  asked  if  he  had  any  news  of  the 
War.  He  said  "  he  believed  war  or  peace  had 
been  declared,  but  he  could  not  tell  which." 
The  Irish  coast  is  one  of  exceeding  beauty,  ba- 
saltic in  formation,  and  presenting  to  the  eye  a 
pleasing  variety  of  bold  head-lands,  green  fields 
and  castled  hills.  At  Queenstown  harbor  we 
2* 


18  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

got  from  the  steamer  which  took  off  passen- 
gers for  Cork,  the  first  news  of  the  war. 

Thursday,  19  th. — Sailed  up  the  channel  and 
the  Mersey,  and  arrived  at  Liverpool  at  12 
o'clock,  just  five  hours  less  than  12  days  from 
New  York. 

Passing  rapidly  on  towards  Paris,  we  stopped 
a  day  in  London,  intending  to  take  England  in 
our  route  home.  Taking  the  train  of  the  South 
Western  Railway,  we  reached  New  Haven  in  a 
few  hours,  and  after  6  hours'  sail  in  a  pretty  little 
channel-steamer,  we  landed  at  Dieppe,  and  were 
taken  in  charge  by  two  gensdarmes,  who  con- 
ducted us  to  the  Bureau  du  Paquebot,  where 
our  passports  were  vise,  and  we  received  per- 
mission to  land  and  to  proceed  on  our  journey 
to  Paris,  and  through  France. 

Dieppe  is  an  ancient  Norman  city  of  20,000 
souls,  inhabited  by  rough,  independent  and  hardy 
fishermen,  who  find  the  shores  of  France,  and  their 
neighborhood,  well  fitted  for  their  peculiar  busi- 
ness. In  summer  it  is  also  a  favorite  watering- 
place  of  the  French,  and  splendid  hotels  have 
sprung  up  which  give  to  the  town  an  appearance 


DIEPPE.  19 

of  growth,  life,  and  activity,  quite  American. 
The  approach  to  Dieppe  is  exceedingly  pictur- 
esque. The  shore  for  many  miles  is  lined  with 
white  cliffs,  often  rising  to  a  great  height.  Just 
here  these  high  walls  have  been  sundered  and  a 
fine  harbor  is  formed,  in  which  a  large  fleet  may 
find  safety. 

The  city  has  a  quaint  and  odd  look  to  an 
American.  It  has  an  ancient  cathedral,  built  in 
the  old  Norman  style,  and  which  was  preserved 
from  conflagration  dining  the  English  invasions 
by  setting  fire  to  some  straw  upon  its  roof,  giv- 
ing the  English  troops  the  idea  that  its  destruc- 
tion was  accomplished,  and  turning  their  fire  to 
another  quarter.  Upon  the  sea-shore,  looking 
down  a  beautiful  and  bold  coast,  are  large  ho- 
tels, arranged  in  the  taste  so  natural  to  the 
French,  and  with  all  the  appliances  for  fashion- 
able amusement  and  dissipation.  The  port  is 
spacious,  and  has  a  fine  castle  and  citadel. 

We  take  a  stroll  along  the  shore,  and  are 
amused  with  the  dress  of  the  fishermen  and 
women,  who  preserve  to  a  great  extent  the  old 
Norman  fashions,  and  whose  whole  appearance 


20  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

is  to  an  American,  an  entire  novelty,  and  makes 
him  feel  that  he  is  in  a  strange  land. 

Leaving  Dieppe  in  the  afternoon  we  pass  on 
towards  Rouen,  by  railway,  through  a  beauti- 
ful countiy,  well  cultivated,  and  covered  with 
flower-gardens ;  and  reach  that  ancient  city  just 
as  the  night  has  closed  upon  us.  We  had  been 
directed  to  a  hotel  where  English  was  spoken, 
and  found  ourselves  in  a  quiet  and  cozy  old 
French  inn,  where  our  only  interpreter  soon  left 
us  to  the  care  of  the  hostess,  who,  though  very 
pretty  and  agreeable,  was  unable  to  speak  a  word 
of  English.  Of  course  all  our  knowledge  of 
French  had  to  be  summoned  to  our  aid.  Rooms 
were  to  be  provided,  tea  to  be  had,  bills  to  be 
made  out,  servants  to  be  summoned,  and  the 
waiters  to  be  talked  to  in  French. 

There  is  nothing  like  being  cornered,  to  bring 
out  one's  resources ;  and  we  found  our  old  hours 
with  Ollendorff  and  others,  returning  to  us  most 
advantageously.  Our  first  attempt  at  French 
was  so  far  successful  that  we  found  ourselves  in 
possession  of  all  the  comforts  the  inn  could 
afford. 


ROUEN.  21 

Rouen,  the  ancient  capital  of  Normandy,  has 
now  about  90,000  population.  It  lies  upon  the 
Seine,  which  is  here  navigable  to  steamers  and 
small  ships, 

Ptolemy,  in  the  second  century,  mentions  this 
city.  When  Rome  had  subjugated  France,  it 
became  a  military  post  of  considerable  impor- 
tance. The  Frank  succeeded  the  Romans  in  its 
possession;  then  the  Norman  pirates  took  it 
in  841,  and  have  left  the  characteristics  of  their 
nation  all  over  the  city.  Rouen  suffered  re- 
peated sieges,  and  at  length  fell  to  France,  to 
whom  it  now  belongs.  During  the  Reforma- 
tion, that  work  found  many  friends  here ;  and 
in  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  500  of  its 
families  perished  under  the  cruel  mandate  of 
the  Popish  authorities.  At  the  time  of  the 
Revolution  it  again  became  the  scene  of  terrible 
butchery,  when  1,200  persons  perished  by  the 
guillotine.  Rouen,  although  a  large  and  im- 
portant city,  has,  from  the  great  age  of  its 
buildings,  an  appearance  of  dilapidation  which 
really  belies  its  actual  condition.  It  is  an  im- 
portant  manufacturing  town,  lying  upon   the 


22  IMPRESSIONS   ABROAD. 

direct  route  from  Paris  to  Havre  and  Dieppe. 
But  its  streets  are  narrow  and  compact.  A  fine 
boulevard  passes  four  miles  around  the  site  of 
its  old  wall,  filled  with  beautiful  trees,  which 
somewhat  relieve  its  antique  grandeur  with 
what  is  new  and  cheerful.  But  everything 
about  tells  the  story  of  its  age.  Its  houses  are 
quaint  and  rickety,  with  curious  ornamental 
carvings,  and  images  of  saints,  and  martyrs,  and 
Virgin  Marys.  At  every  turn  some  relic  of 
antiquity  meets  you.  Here  is  a  mutilated  statue 
of  a  saint,  and  there  a  Gothic  fountain.  Gro- 
tesque heads  grin  at  you  from  many  a  door-post 
and  window-frame.  Fanciful  jlowers,  the  like 
of  which  were  never  seen,  are  carved  in  queer 
and  stiff  festoons  around  many  a  decaying  man- 
sion. Hobgoblins  and  apostles,  wolves'  heads 
and  headless  martyrs,  serpents  and  wily  priests, 
in  stiff  and  stately  stone,  look  out  upon  you 
from  many  a  crumbling  buttress  and  moulder- 
ing tower.  In  the  market-place,  surrounded  by 
strange-looking  buildings,  stands  the  statue  of 
Joan  of  Arc,  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  who,  for 
her  wonderful  control  over  the  army  of   her 


CHURCH    OF   ST.  OUEN.  23 

native  land,  was  burned  as  a  witch,  by  the 
English,  in  1431,  upon  the  spot  where  her 
statue  now  stands. 

But  the  great  features  of  the  city  of  Rouen 
are  its  two  splendid  churches,  which  present  to 
us  some  of  the  finest  specimens  of  Gothic  archi- 
tecture to  be  found  in  Europe.  -  We  visit  first 
the  church  of  St.  Ouen,  founded  in  the  year 
533.  In  844,  it  was  burned  during  the  Norman 
invasion.  In  the  year  1303,  the  first  stone  of 
the  present  structure  was  laid.  As  you  ap- 
proach it  you  notice  the  elaborate  carvings  upon 
the  casements  of  the  doors,  representing,  in  bas- 
relief,  scripture  scenes  and  history.  Over  the 
windows,  and  upon  the  pillars,  and  under  the 
eaves,  start  out  those  strange  and  grotesque 
figures  which  form  a  part  of  the  ancient  Gothic 
style.  On  entering,  you  are  struck  with  awe 
and  wonder.  Before  you  lies  a  vast  pile,  450 
feet  long  by  100  feet  high,  and  about  the  same 
in  width.  The  ceiling,  sustained  by  huge  clus- 
tered columns,  rises  from  the  stone  floor,  on 
which  appears  no  pew  or  seat  to  break  in  upon 
the  perfect  proportions  of  the  interior.     Eleven 


24  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

chapels  surround  the  choir,  in  all  of  which  ser-' 
vice  is  held  at  different  times ;  and  while  in  one 
part  of  the  edifice  a  congregation  is  listening  to 
preaching,  in  adjoining  chapels  mass  and  other 
services  are  performed,  with  no  danger  of  inter- 
fering, the  one  with  the  other. 

The  church  is  lighted  by  125  immense  win- 
dows of  stained  glass;  and  when  we  pass  into 
the  last  chancel,  and  look  up  to  the  vast  ceiling, 
rising  to  the  height  of  100  feet,  and  through 
the  arches,  columns,  statues,  paintings  and  win- 
dows, that  make  up  this  splendid  pile,  the  effect 
is  overwhelming. 

Passing  out  and  paying  a  franc  to  the  eexton, 
and  followed  by  one  of  the  swarms  of  guides 
that  offer  to  show  us  the  city,  we  visit  the  cathe- 
dral of  Notre  Dame,  where  new  wonders  await 
us.  There  was  a  chapel  here  in  the  ninth  cen- 
tury, a  part  of  which  still  remains.  In  the  year 
841  it  was  pillaged,  but  not  destroyed ;  enlarged 
in  the  tenth  century;  and  in  1117  struck  by 
lightning,  and  burned  in  1200. 

The  present  cathedral  is  the  work  of  three 
separate  ages,  each  style  being   distinctly   de- 


NOTRE    DAME.  25 

fined.  Its  length  is  418  feet,  its  greatest  breadth 
100  feet,  and  the  height  of  the  nave  96  feet.  It 
has  three  principal  towers.  The  tower  of  St. 
Roman  is  the  oldest, — 230  feet  high.  Next 
comes  the  "  Tour  de  Beurre,"  or  Butter  Tower, 
230  feet  high,  built  by  the  granting  of  indul- 
gences to  eat  butter  in  Lent.  The  third  tower, 
which  is  to  be  436  feet  high,  is  built  of  iron, 
and  will  soon  be  finished.  The  walls  and  doors 
and  windows  are  ornamented  with  the  most 
grotesque  and  elaborate  carvings  of  saints  and 
scripture  scenes.  As  we  enter,  we  are  again 
astonished  with  the  vision  of  majestic  beauty 
and  grandeur  that  meets  our  eye.  Wherever 
we  turn  we  behold  something  to  elicit  our  ad- 
miration, or  to  fill  us  with  wonder.  The  light 
streams  down  through  the  stained  Gothic  win- 
dows upon  twenty-five  chapels  which  sur- 
round the  choir,  and  which  are  filled  with 
splendid  paintings,  with  fine  statuary,  and  with 
the  monumental  relics  of  past  ages.  Here  we 
meet  with  the  first  specimens  of  painted  bronze, 
dating  back  to  the  year  994.  Here,  in  stiff 
and   stately    grandeur,   lie   the    mighty   dead. 


26  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Here,  Richard  "  Cceur  de  Lion"  has  his  tomb ; 
and  William  "the  Long  Sword,"  and  Rollo, 
first  Duke  of  Normandy ;  and  many  a  noble 
name  is  recalled  as  we  pass  the  sepulchres  that 
are  placed  around  the  building,  in  almost  every 
chapel. 

Such  was  the  effect  of  this  first  sight  of  truly 
Gothic  grandeur,  that  even  now,  after  having 
looked  over  the  most  famous  churches  of  Europe, 
I  still  find  myself  recalling  this  vast  and  splen- 
did edifice  as  one  of  the  wonders  of  France. 

One  is  lost  in  feelings  of  awe,  as  he  stands 
and  looks  over  this  magnificent  Gothic  pile,  and 
hears  the  solemn  music  of  the  organ  and  the 
chant  of  the  robed  priests ;  while  the  cries  and 
noises  of  the  city  without, — the  rumbling  of 
wheels,  and  the  hurry  of  active  life, — present,  in 
.strange  contrast,  the  world  and  the  church — the 
worship  of  Mammon  and  of  God. 

As  a  picturesque  city,  Rouen  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  in  France: — full  of  strange 
contrasts;  odd  and  antique  costumes  of  past 
centuries  perpetuated  from  age  to  age;  fine 
modem  mansions  and  quaint  old  tumble-down 


A    QUAINT    CITY.  27 

houses,  scarcely  fit  for  cattle  ;  splendid  relics  of 
old  churches  used  now  as  rag-shops,  or  ware- 
houses, or  for  whatever  they  can  be  rented, 
closed  for  religious  purposes  since  the  Revolu- 
tion ;  and  of  the  few  which  remain,  many  a  sad 
mark  of  the  spoiler's  hand  being  left  by  the 
Protestants,  in  their  zeal,  at  the  Reformation. 
In  short,  no  one  should  go  to  Paris  without 
spending  a  day  or  two  at  Rouen. 

Leaving  it  in  the  afternoon,  a  ride  of  four 
hours  brings  us  to  the  wall  of  Paris,  85  miles 
distant.  And  now  evening  is  coming  on,  we 
have  only  time  to  get  comfortably  settled  at  our 
hotel  "de  Lille  et  d'Albion,"  where  we  will 
meet  you  next  week  for  a  sight  of  Paris. 


II. 

PARIS. 

IT  was  on  a  bright  and  beautiful  afternoon  in 
May,  when  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  loco- 
motive announced  our  approach  to  the  city  of 
Paris.  In  a  few  moments  we  had  passed  through 
its  walls  and  were  at  the  railroad  station,  under- 
going the  usual  examination  of  baggage,  to  dis- 
cover if  any  contraband  articles  were  about  to 
be  smuggled  into  the  city.  This,  with  the  con- 
stant inspection  of  the  passport,  is  a  nuisance 
which  the  American  notices  first  and  most  fre- 
quently in  Europe,  and  to  which  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  become  accustomed.  But  the  trav- 
eller should  take  the  annoyance  good-natured- 
ly, remembering  that  it  is  not  the  fault  of  the 


PHILOSOPHY.  29 

custom-house  officers,  who  but  do  their  duty, 
and  usually  do  it  as  gentlemen.  His  best  way 
is  to  treat  them  politely — have  his  keys  and 
passport  always  ready — and  he  will  escape  with 
comparatively  little  trouble.  Let  him  avoid  all 
irritation  or  anxiety,  and  he  will  find  the  exami- 
nation will  be  but  a  mere  form.  A  hand  will 
be  thrust  down  here  and  there  in  his  baggage, 
and  then  his  keys  returned  to  him  with  a  cour- 
teous bow,  and  he  permitted  to  go  on  his  way ; 
while  the  man  who  allows  himself  to  get  worried 
and  irritated,  will  find  his  troubles  increasing 
with  every  stage  of  his  journey. 

I  found  in  my  own  experience  a  good  deal 
of  virtue  in  a  bit  of  practical  philosophy,  which 
I  learned  from  my  friend  Mr.  Smith,  on  our 
voyage  to  Europe.  It  was  the  story  of  a  jolly 
tar  who  had  been  promoted  from  the  forecastle 
to  the  cabin,  and  from  hauling  ropes  and  reef- 
ing sails,  to  waiting  on  the  table. 

In  his  first  essay  at  his  new  business,  he  got 
along  well  enough,  until  he  came  to  a  lady  who 
did  not  wish  soup.  "Take  it  away,"  said  she, 
"  I  don't  wish  it."     M  Oh,  but  you  must  have  it, 


30  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

you  must  have  it,  ma'am,"  replied  Jack,  "it's 
the  rules  of  the  sarvice."  So  I  remembered 
that  the  passport  system  and  the  custom-house 
search  were  "the  rales  of  the  sarvice,"  a  part 
of  the  penalties  one  paid  for  travelling;  and  I 
acted  accordingly,  and  never  had  the  slightest 
difficulty,  except  once,  in  Prussia,  where  an 
official  found  a  small  doll  in  my  trunk.  The 
soldier  took  the  toy  to  his  superior  officer,  who 
only  gave  one  look  at  it,  with  an  indescriba- 
ble shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  exclaimed  "bon" 
— all  right. 

Taking  a  carriage  at  the  depot,  we  were  soon 
set  down  at  the  Hotel  de  Lille  et  d' Albion,  and 
were  saluted  with  a  profound  French  courtesy 
by  the  hostess,  and  in  a  few  moments  conduct- 
ed to  our  rooms  overlooking  a  neat  garden  full 
of  flowers  and  statuary,  and  giving  us  just  the 
slightest  peep  into  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  and  the 
gardens  of  the  Tuileries.  As  the  evening  is 
uj)on  us,  we  have  onl}T  time  to  walk  out  into  the 
nearest  boulevard,  where  we  stumble  upon  two 
friends  whom  we  have  not  seen  for  years,  and 
to  return  to  our  rooms  and  look  over  a  little  of 


HISTORICAL.  31 

the  history  of  Pans,  and  to  study  somewhat  its 
topography  and  statistics. 

There  was  a  rude  settlement  upon  the  island 
in  the  Seine  when  Julius  Caesar  invaded  Gaul. 
The  people  who  dwelt  here  were  a  fierce  and 
hardy  race  of  hunters  and  fishermen.  Their 
worship  was  Druidical,  which  was  in  time  suc- 
ceeded by  Roman  idolatry,  traces  of  which  are 
still  found  over  the  city. 

Constantine  honored  the  place  with  a  visit, 
and  Julian  spent  a  winter  here. 

At  the  close  of  the  fifth  century,  Clovis  rout- 
ed the  Romans  and  made  himself  master  of  Paris. 
Then' he  married  Clotilde,  embraced  Christiani- 
ty, and  built  a  church.  The  introduction  of  the 
Christian  religion,  according  to  the  monkish  tra- 
dition, was  accomplished  by  St.  Denis,  A.  D. 
250.  He  was  beheaded  at  Montmartre,  and  his 
headless  statue  adorns  the  porch  of  the  church 
of  St.  Germain  lAuxerrois,  whither  he  walked 
after  his  execution,  with  his  head  in  his  hands. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century  the 
growing  wealth  of  Paris  excited  the  cupidity  of 
the  Normans,  who  sacked  and  burnt  it.     After 


32  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  rise  of  the  Capetiau  kings,  the  city  began  to 
increase  and  flourish.  Century  after  century  has 
witnessed  its  growing  wealth  and  splendor. 
Revolution  after  revolution  has  passed  over  it, 
only  to  leave  new  monuments  of  taste  and  luxu- 
ry, and  to  hand  down  to  other  generations  some 
new  leaf  in  the  history  of  the  metropolis  of  France. 

Paris  now  contains  1,250,000  souls,  of  whom 
about  one  half  are  working  people.  There  is 
annually  expended  $48,000,000  for  food,  $70,- 
000,000  for  dress,  and  $10,000,000  for  wines. 
There  are  about  3,000  liquor  dealers  in  Paris, 
while  in  our  two  cities  there  are  probably  8,000, 
— a  strange  disproportion  in  favor  of  the  French 
metropolis,  where  I  saw  less  drunkenness  in  a 
fortnight  than  one  may  see  here  in  a  single  hour. 

But  let  us  turn  from  these  historical  notices 
and  statistics  to  begin  our  rambles  over  the  city. 
Walking  from  our  hotel,  which  lies  hard  by  the 
Palace  of  the  Emperor,  and  crossing  the  garden 
of  the  Tuileries,  we  come  to  the  banks  of  the 
Seine,  which  flows  through  the  city  from  the 
south-east  to  the  north-west,  dividing  it  into 
two  unequal  parts.     Like  most  of  the  rivers  of 


THE    SEINE.  33 

Europe,  which  are  rendered  important  by  their 
historical  connections  chiefly,  an  American  feels 
a  sense  of  disappointment  when  he  finds  here  a 
small  and  insignificant  stream.  It  is  crossed  by 
a  multitude  of  bridges,  and  navigated  by  small 
canal-boats,  which  bring  down  produce  from  the 
country. 

All  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine  are  swim- 
ming-schools and  bath-houses.  But  when  one 
looks  at  the  muddy  stream  that  is  hurrying  along 
towards  the  sea,  holding  in  solution  the  soil  of 
the  country  and  the  filth  of  the  city,  he  wonders 
how  a  Frenchman  can  ever  get  clean  there. 

There  are  twenty-three  bridges  across  the 
Seine,  four  of  which  are  built  of  iron,  one  of 
wood,  and  the  rest  are  substantial  structures  of 
stone:  of  these  the  Pont-Neuf  is  the  most  cele- 
brated. 

Along  the  banks  of  the  river  are  beautiful 
quays,  extending  in  all  more  than  eleven  miles. 
They  present  the  appearance  of  large  terraces, 
with  fine  M'Adamized  roads  and  foot  pavement, 
bordered  with  trees  neatly  trimmed  and  kept  in 
perfect  order.  Benches  are  placed  along  the 
3 


34  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

route  for  tired  pedestrians,  and  in  the  evening 
the  whole  is  brilliantly  lighted  with  gas,  thus 
furnishing  a  magnificent  promenade  for  the  citi- 
zens of  Paris. 

But  the  grand  resort  of  the  Parisians  begins 
with  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  where  hun- 
dreds of  seats  are  let  every  afternoon,  by  per- 
sons employed  for  the  purpose,  and  extends 
upward  as  far  as  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  near  the 
city  walls. 

Besides  these  splendid  grounds,  to  which  we 
shall  recur  again,  are  the  Boulevards,  which  are 
fine  streets,  well  shaded  by  trees,  and  extending 
almost  around  the  city.  There  may  be  met  of 
an  afternoon  tens  of  thousands,  looking  into  the 
gay  shops  which  are  filled  with  articles  of  taste 
and  use,  or  sitting  down  before  a  restaurant 
enjoying  an  ice,  or  a  bottle  of  wine,  with  a 
group  of  friends. 

When  we  add  to  these  general  features  the 
splendid  churches;  palaces  which  appear  in  al- 
most every  part  of  the  city,  each  of  which  has 
its  thrilling  story  of  the  mighty  past ;  the  monu- 
ments which  rise  from  every  elevation  and  square ; 


TUILERIES.  35 

the  fountains  that  play  in  the  sunlight,  or  shine 
in  their  softened  beauty  amid  the  lamps  that 
make  Paris  so  brilliant  at  evening;  with  the 
parks,  and  statues,  and  military  and  civil  estab- 
lishments of  the  city,  we  have  some  idea  of  what 
we  are  to  see  in  passing  through  the  gay  capital 
of  France.  Beginning  now  with  the  garden  of 
the  Tuileries,  after  we  have  looked  at  the  long 
lines  of  statuary,  and  the  fountains  and  groves 
which  adorn  the  palace  grounds,  we  turn  our 
faces  westward,  and  take  our  first  walk  of  explo- 
ration. 

Entering  a  dense  grove  filled  with  chairs  to 
rent,  we  come  upon  two  hemicycles  of  white 
marble,  with  small  and  tasteful  enclosures  in 
front,  adorned  with  some  pieces  of  fine  statuary. 
These  are  relics  of  the  Revolution,  and  were 
designed  by  Robespierre. 

Passing  onward,  we  come  to  two  piers  which 
rise  into  solid  walls,  from  the  west  barrier  of  the 
Tuileries,  enclosing  a  fountain  and  some  groups 
of  statuary  designed  to  represent  the  great  rivers 
of  the  old  world. 

Leaving  the  gardens   by  the  western  gate, 


36  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

which  is  always  guarded  by  sentinels,  we  come 
into  a  vast  circle  called  the  Place  de  Concorde. 
Until  the  time  of  Louis  XV.,  this  spot  was  a 
useless  and  shapeless  piece  of  ground.  It  is  now 
enclosed  by  balustrades,  upon  which  stand  eight 
colossal  statues,  which  represent  the  chief  cities 
of  France.  In  the  centre,  and  upon  the  very  spot 
where  the  unfortunate  Marie  Antoinette  died  by 
the  guillotine,  stands  the  celebrated  obelisk  taken 
from  the  ruins  of  Luxor,  and  covered  with  hie- 
roglyphics, supposed  to  have  been  wrought  dur- 
ing the  time  of  Sesostris.  This  obelisk  was 
brought  from  Egypt  at  a  great  expense,  and  its 
mate  is  to  be  found  at  Rome.  A  story  is  told 
about  the  obelisk  at  Rome  which  is  worth  re- 
peating. Workmen  were  engaged  in  raising 
that  massive  piece  of  stone  to  the  pedestal  pre- 
pared to  receive  it,  and  strict  orders  had  been 
given  that,  during  the  operation,  no  one  of  the 
vast  multitude  assembled  to  witness  it  should 
utter  a  word.  Gradually  the  ponderous  stone 
rose  very  nearly  to  its  place,  and  then  it  refused 
to  move  any  farther.  The  ropes  were  stretched 
to  their  utmost  tension,  and  there  was  great  dan- 


OBELISK    UP    LUXOR.  37 

ger  that  the  vast  slab  would  fall,  when  suddenly 
an  English  sailor  cried  out,  "Wet  the  ropes." 
The  man  was  immediately  arrested,  but  the 
quick  ear  of  the  foreman  had  caught  the  magic 
word.  The  ropes  were  wetted — they  contracted 
— and  the  obelisk  rose  to  its  place.  The  next 
morning  the  sailor  was  not  only  released,  but 
was  most  liberally  rewarded.  This  is  one  of  the 
instances  in  which  apparent  impossibilities  have 
been  achieved  by  a  little  practical  knowledge. 

On  either  side  of  the  column  stands  a  foun- 
tain ;  the  one  is  dedicated  to  the  ocean  and  the 
other  to  the  river.  They  consist  of  circular  ba- 
sins fifty  feet  in  diameter,  on  which  are  erected 
colossal  figures,  with  various  emblems  of  the 
Ocean,  Commerce,  Art,  and  Science.  Passing 
through  the  Place  de  Concorde,  we  come  to  the 
Champs  Elysees,  which  is  a  long  and  beautiful 
park  adorned  with  statues,  and  fountains,  and 
groves. 

There  stands  the  Palace  of  Industry,  an  im- 
mense building  designed  as  a  place  for  the  ex- 
hibition of  works  of  art.  Taking  our  way 
through  a  magnificent  avenue,  we  come  to  the 


38  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Arc  de  Trioiuphe,  built  at  an  immense  expense 
by  Napoleon  I.  It  is  152  feet  high  by  137 
broad,  and  68  deep;  and  is  adorned  with  repre- 
sentations of  the  great  battles  of  the  Empire. 

Here,  in  these  Elysian  fields,  is  the  great  resort 
of  the  gay  citizens  of  Paris.  Yonder,  an  avenue 
leads  to  the  famous,  or  rather  the  infamous,  Cha- 
teau des  Fleurs.  Here  are  given  balls  and  con- 
certs, attended  by  persons  whose  reputation  is 
by  no  means  doubtful.  I  did  not  enter  the 
place,  although  I  was  informed  that  it  was  fit- 
ted up  in  a  style  of  Oriental  splendor.  But 
when  I  saw  carriages  driving  up  to  the  entrance, 
some  filled  with  young  men,  and  others  with  fe- 
males, who  were  to  meet  them  amid  these  fasci- 
nations and  excitements,  I  felt  that  over  the  por- 
tals of  that  place  might  be  written  the  words  of 
the  wise  man:  "Her  steps  take  hold  on  hell!" 
And  these,  I  fear,  are  the  resorts  with  which 
many  a  young  American  is  familiar,  who  is  sent 
to  Paris  to  finish  his  education.  For  my  own 
part,  I  would  rather  send  a  youth  to  the  State 
Prison  to  perfect  his  morals,  than  to  this  city. 
There  is  doubtless  a  great  deal  of  science  in  its 


PARISIAN    LIFE.  39 

schools,  and  one  may  learn  French  perfectly, 
and  gain  a  certain  degree  of  polish,  but  he  is  in 
danger  of  acquiring  much,  of  which  he  might 
better  have  remained  ignorant  for  life.  Every 
thing  really  useful  to  a  young  man  may  be  ac- 
quired as  readily  at  home,  and  with  much  greater 
ety.  In  Paris,  where  vice  is  everywhere 
;it,  she  has  not  that  hideous  mien, 

"Which  to  be  hated  needs  but  to  be  seen," 

but  is  always  beautiful  and  attractive.  Ten 
thousand  temptations  assail  one  on  every  hand 
— temptations  just  suited  to  his  character,  incli- 
nation, and  tastes.  "  Live  while  you  live,"  seems 
to  be  the  motto  of  the  Parisian.  The  predomi- 
nating characteristic  of  this  brilliant  city  is 
;  honghtless  frivolity — amusement  for  the  present, 
with  no  serious  regard  for  the  future.  It  must 
hard  to  be  a  Christian  in  this  great  Vanity 
Fair.  For  myself,  when  returning  from  the 
American  Chapel  one  Sabbath,  through  the 
Champs  Elysees,  surrounded  by  everything  to 
divert  the  attention  and  call  the  mind  away  from 
serious  things;  with  soft  music  wooing  the  ear. 


40  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

and  gay  equipages  attracting  the  eye ;  with  itin- 
erant tumblers  and  mountebanks  of  every  de- 
scription ;  with  Punch  and  Judy  shows,  before 
which  crowds  of  people  were  standing  in  high 
glee;  with  fountains  flashing  in  the  sunlight, 
and  fairy  boats,  and  elevators,  and  hobby-horses 
in  ceaseless  motion ;  with  vast  throngs  of  the  gay, 
the  lively,  and  the  beautiful,  sitting,  or  walking, 
or  riding ;  with  all  the  life,  bustle  and  vivacity 
of  the  French  people  around  me,  I  found  it  nec- 
essary again  and  again  to  say,  as  I  passed  along, 
"Remember  that  you  have  an  immortal  soul  to 
save." 

And  this  was  on  the  Sabbath!  And  such 
would  foreign  infidels  make  our  Sabbaths,  if 
possible.  God  grant  that  America  may  never 
witness  such  a  fearful  defiance  of  Him  who  has 
bidden  us  remember  His  sacred  day  of  rest  to 
keep  it  holy. 

And  this  is  Paris,  where  Vice  is  under 
governmental  patronage,  and  Virtue  too  often 
is  but  a  name!  where  vice  is  made  attractive, 
and  the  stern  virtues  of  the  Christian  life  seem 
austere  and  repulsive.     And  is  this  the  city  in 


THE    BOIS    DE    BOULOGNE.  41 

which  it  is  safe  for  our  American  citizens  to 
leave  their  sons,  with  ample  means  of  dissipa- 
tion ? 

During  a  visit  to  Europe,  one  usually  finds 
his  interest  enlisted  by  the  antiquity  of  the  ob- 
jects which  he  sees  around.  Age  is  novelty, 
and  things  are  new  to  him  because  they  are  old. 
But  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  is  an  exception  to 
this.  It  is  a  splendid  park  just  outside  the  city, 
which  has  been  completed  within  three  years. 
Napoleon  found  it  a  wilderness,  the  resort  of 
duellists  and  suicides,  and  has  left  it  a  garden. 
Its  fountains,  and  lakes,  and  cascades;  its  grot- 
toes, formed  of  stone  brought  from  a  distance, 
but  which  seem  to  have  grown  together  for 
ages;  its  race-courses,  and  drives,  and  prome- 
nades ;  its  romantic  dells  and  fairy  bridges ;  its 
tasteful  lawns,  and  hills,  and  valleys — all  alive 
with  people  who  have  come  out  to  breathe  the 
pure  air — are  a  monument  of  the  genius  and 
will  of  the  Emperor.  He  did  not  wait  for  trees 
to  grow,  but  transplanted  them  hither  full- 
grown.  With  his  admirable  apparatus,  sum- 
mer and  winter  were  alike,  and  the  trees  kept 
3* 


42  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

on  growing  in  their  new  Boil  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

Returning  from  this  noble  park,  and  pausing 
a  moment  at  the  Chapel  of  St.  Ferdinand  t  - 
a  fine  painting  of  the  death  of  the  Duke  of 
Orleans,  we  cross  the  Seine  in  front  of  the  L  -_- 
islative  buildings,  and.  passing  through  the 
Champ  de  Mars,  visit  the  Chapel  of  the  Inva- 
lids, where  the  remain-  of  Napoleon  I.  now 
find  rest.  Still  farther  eastward,  we  enter 
th*-  famous  Jardin  des  Planter,  or  the  Botan- 
ical Garden  of  Paris.  It  is  a  spot  well  worth 
a  long  visit.  There  you  may  find  almost  every 
variety  of  tree,  from  the  American  pine  to  the 
Asiatic  palm,  all  in  as  good  condition  as  if  in 
their  native  soil.  Counties-  varieties  of  plants 
are  here,  and  animals  innumerable.  And  all 
this  collection  is  maintained  by  the  State,  at  a 
vast  expense,  and  is  free  alike  to  the  poor  and 
the  rich  of  Pari-.  Truly,  the  Emperor  b 
way  of  doing  things  which  i>  not  like  <'iir>. 
Think  of  the  popular  instruction,  and  the  im- 
petus given  to  popular  inquiry  and  education 
by  means  of  this  open  Garden  of  Plants.     True. 


THEBASTILE.  43 

the  money  to  support  it  comes  from  the  people 
in  the  shape  of  heavy  taxes,  but  it  returns  to 
them  again,  in  the  shape  of  instruction  and 
amusement ;  while  our  money  comes  from  us  in 
the  same  way,  and  returns  to — the  pockets  of 
our  officials! 

Passing  still  onward  beyond  the  city  limits, 
we  come  to  Pere  la  Chaise,  the  great  cemetery 
of  Paris.  It  has  no  attractions,  except  the 
names  of  those  who  are  buried  there.  Here  is 
the  tomb  of  Abelard  and  Heloise,  with  whose 
history  all  are  familiar ;  here,  too,  lie  Talma 
and  Rachel,  and  other  celebrities  of  Paris  and 
of  France. 

Returning,  we  pass  the  column  of  July,  erected 
upon  the  very  spot  where  once  stood  that  hated 
Bastile,  winch  was  destroyed  in  1789,  and  the 
key  of  which  was  sent  to  our  Washington  by 
Lafayette.  This  key  may  still  be  seen  at  Mount 
Vernon.  Prisoners  in  the  Bastile  were  con- 
signed to  a  living  death.  Revenge  was  grati- 
fied by  their  incarceration,  and  tyranny  soon 
forgot  its  victim,  who  lingered  on  hopelessly, 
till  death   relieved   the   captive.     I    remember 


44  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

reading,  when  quite  young,  the  story  of  a  man 
imprisoned  in  the  Bastile  for  many  years,  who, 
when  he  was  released,  found  that  his  dwelling 
had  been  long  replaced,  by  others,  his  family 
scattered  or  deceased,  and  himself  homeless  and 
without  a  friend.  So  he  returned  to  his  prison, 
and  begged  to  be  admitted  once  more  to  his 
lonely  dungeon,  which  he  had  been  so  happy  to 
leave  a  few  hours  before.  Here  fell  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris  while  attempting  to  reason 
with  the  insurgents  of  1848.  His  last  words 
were,  "  May  my  blood  be  the  last  spilt  in  civil 
war."  Passing  homeward,  let  us  take  in  our 
way  the  manufactory  of  Gobelin  tapestry. 
These  splendid  tapestries  equal,  in  their  superb 
finish,  the  very  best  paintings,  and  are  woven 
with  many  hundred  different  shades  of  color. 
The  manufactory  was  founded,  it  is  said,  by  a 
man  named  Gobelin,  a  dyer,  and  is  now  mo- 
nopolized by  the  government.  The  products  of 
it  are  given  as  presents  to  the  nobility  and  to 
the  crowned  heads  of  Europe,  Queen  Victoria, 
for  instance,  having  several  of  them  in  her 
palaces.     Portraits  are  sometimes  copied  in  this 


ST.    EOCH.  45 

way,  as  those  of  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress 
— who  is  a  very  beautiful  woman — which  are 
now  being  wrought  from  a  picture  by  one  of 
the  finest  artists  of  France. 

Let  us  now  return  from  this  general  survey 
of  the  city,  to  look  at  some  of  its  churches. 

Just  a  moment's  walk  from  our  hotel,  in  the 
Rue  St.  Honore,  stands  the  church  of  St.  Koch, 
begun  in  1653,  by  Louis  XIV.  You  enter  it 
through  two  ranges  of  Doric  and  Corinthian 
columns,  which  make  a  front  of  84  feet  broad 
by  91  high,  and  find  a  splendid  building  405 
feet  long.  Near  the  entrance  is  the  tomb  of 
Pierre  Corneille.  Along  the  side  of  the  church 
are  eight  or  ten  chapels,  richly  decorated  with 
paintings,  frescoes  and  statuary.  Standing  near 
one  of  the  vast  columns  is  the  pulpit,  formed  of 
statues  of  the  Evangelists,  carved  in  oak,  while 
a  gilt  angel,  with  outspread  wings,  supports  the 
canopy.  Passing  behind  the  choir,  we  come  to 
a  shrine  made  of  the  cedar  of  Lebanon,  richly 
decorated  with  mouldings  of  gold  and  bronze. 
Still  beyond  this  is  the  chapel  of  the  holy  Sac- 
rament,— magnificently   furnished   to    represent 


46  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  Holy  of  Holies, — built  of  rich  marble,  and 
containing  all  the  ornaments  of  the  Jewish 
ritual ;  re-producing,  as  far  as  art  and  genius 
and  wealth  can  do  it,  the  splendid  scenery  of 
the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  In  the  choir  stands 
a  fine-toned  organ,  which,  on  festival  occasions, 
alternates  with  a  still  finer  and  more  magnificent 
one  that  is  placed  over  the  main  entrance.  The 
music  in  this  church  is  said  to  be  the  best  in 
Paris ;  it  is  certainly  of  the  most  artistic  char- 
acter. A  service  here  is  a  novelty  to  an  Ameri- 
can. The  number  of  priests  who  engage  in  it, 
the  richness  of  their  garments,  the  character  of 
the  music,  the  appearance  of  the  beadles  as 
they  walk  up  and  down  the  marble  aisles,  bring- 
ing their  heavy  staves  of  office  down  upon  the 
floor  with  a  sound  that  makes  one  start  and 
wonder  what  is  coming  next ;  the  women  col- 
lecting their  sous  for  the  use  of  the  chairs 
and  prie-dieux ;  the  priests  passing  among  the 
crowd,  during  the  service,  to  gather  money  for 
the  church ;  the  hum  of  voices  in  the  chapel 
while  service  is  progressing  in  the  choir ;  the 
clouds   of  incense  that   are   ascending   at   the 


MADELEINE.  47 

altar ;  the  splendid  works  of  art  that  shine  out 
from  the  ceiling,  the  walls  and  every  angle  of 
the  vast  edifice, — combine  to  make  the  whole  a 
scene  not  soon  to  be  forgotten.  . 

But  let  us  pass  from  this  to  the  church  of 
the  Madeleine,— the  pride  of  Paris,  and  one  of 
the  noblest  specimens  of  modern  genius  and  art 
that  the  world  contains.  Although  begun  in 
1704,  it  was  not  finished  until  the  time  of  Louis 
Phillippe.  It  cost  13,079,000  francs.  Its  archi- 
tecture is  Grecian,  being  surrounded  by  52 
Corinthian  columns,  49  feet  high  and  16  J  feet  in 
circumference.  In  the  walls  are  32  niches 
filled  with  statues  of  saints.  Before  you  ascend 
the  lofty  flight  of  28  steps,  you  notice  that  the 
whole  entablature  and  ceiling  are  profusely 
decorated  with  the  most  elaborate  sculpture. 
Look  also  to  the  pediment  of  the  southern  front, 
where  is  an  immense  alto-relievo,  126  feet  by 
24.  In  the  centre  is  the  figure  of  Christ,  with 
Magdalen  at  His  feet ;  to  His  right,  the  angels  of 
mercy,  Innocence  and  Faith.  In  the  corner,  an 
angel  is  greeting  a  spirit  just  rising  to  bliss  ; 
and  on   the   left   of  the   Sovereign  Judge  the 


48  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

angel  of  vengeance  is  repelling  hatred,  unchas- 
tity,  hypocrisy  and  avarice,  while  a  demon  is 
precipitating  to  the  abyss  a  lost  and  damned 
spirit. 

Ascending  the  steps,  pause,  and  study  the 
magnificent  bronze  doors, — outvying  all  but 
those  of  St.  Peter's,  at  Rome,  measuring  33  by 
16  J  feet,  and  displaying  in  bas-relief  Scriptural 
illustrations  of  the  Decalogue,  leaving  out  the 
second,  and  dividing  the  tenth  Commandment. 

As  you  enter,  you  are  amazed  at  the  magnifi- 
cence and  artistic  beauty  that  meet  yon.  Over 
the  porch  stands  a  superb  Corinthian  organ. 
On  the  right  is  the  chapel  for  marriages,  with  a 
group  representing  the  marriage  of  the  Virgin. 
On  the  left,  the  Baptismal  font,  "with  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  Baptism  of  Christ  at  Jordan. 
There  are  twelve  confessionals,  with  a  pulpit 
richly  carved  in  oak,  and  gilt,  and  decorated  like 
the  organ.  The  church  consists  of  one  vast 
nave,  interrupted  by  piers,  fronted  with  lofty 
columns,  supporting  colossal  arches,  on  which 
rest  three  cupolas  with  skylights  spendidly  dec- 
orated, and  supported  in  the  corners  by  figures 


DECORATIONS.  49 

of  the  Apostles.  The  richest  marbles  encrust 
the  walls  of  the  church.  The  floor  also  is  of 
rich  and  variegated  marble.  The  walls  of  the 
choir  are  ornamented  with  paintings  and  ara- 
besques on  a  ground  of  gold.  The  ceilings  are 
decorated  with  magnificent  frescoes,  representing 
the  propagation  of  Christianity. 

In  the  midst  of  the  church,  above  a  flight  of 
marble  steps,  stands  the  high  altar,  surrounded 
by  a  group  of  statuary,  among  which  the  prin- 
cipal figure  is  Magdalen,  borne  upwards  on  the 
wings  of  angels.  At  each  corner  on  a  pedestal 
stands  an  archangel  in  prayer. 

For  these  figures,  alone,  150,000  francs  were 
paid ! 

While  sitting  in  this  church  I  took  out  my 
Testament  and  turned  to  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  where  Christ  is  spoken  of  as  our  only 
great  High  Priest ;  and  thought  how  it  set  aside 
all  this  pomp  and  pageant  as  utterly  useless  in 
the  worship  of  the  Christian  Church ;  and  felt 
that  when  the  word  of  God  should  come  to  be 
an  open  volume  in  France,  as  it  is  in  Scotland, 
these  splendid  services  would  be  replaced  by  a 


50  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

purer,  and  simpler,  and  more  spiritual  worship, 
in  harmony  with  the  order  of  God's  house,  and 
better  adapted  to  lead  the  soul  to  Christ,  and 
salvation. 


III. 

THE  CHURCHES  AND  PALACES  OF 
PARIS. 


W 


E  will  take  a  brief  glance  at  two  or  three 
more  of  the  churches  of  Paris,  and  then 
enter  some  of  its  most  celebraced  Palaces  and 
Museums.  First  in  reputation,  if  not  in  beauty, 
is  the  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame.  It  stands 
upon  an  island  called  la  Cite,  near  the  spot 
where  once  stood  a  Roman  temple — an  altar  of 
which  was  discovered  in  the  year  1711.  It  is 
supposed  that  as  early  as  A.  D.  365  a  church 
was  built  here,  which  was  afterwards  enlarged 
by  Childebert.  The  foundations  of  Notre 
Dame  were  laid  A.  D.  1000,  and  in  1185,  the 
Patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  who  had  visited  Pans 
to  preach  up  the  first  Crusade,  officiated  in  the 
church.     Age  after  age  witnessed  some  addition 


52  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

to  the  noble  pile,  which  now  presents  a  fine 
specimen  of  the  Gothic  architecture  of  the  12th 
century.  The  cathedral  is  390  feet  long,  144 
feet  in  width,  and  142  feet  high.  Three  vast 
arched  portals  lead  to  the  interior  from  the  front. 
Over  these  are  circular  windows  36  feet  in 
diameter.  As  you  enter  the  middle  door-way, 
you  see  an  elaborate  representation  in  bas-relief 
of  the  Judgment.  The  angels  are  sounding  the 
last  trumpet — the  dead  are  rising — the  separa- 
tion of  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  is  taking 
place — and  the  Saviour  is  upon  the  throne,  sur- 
rounded by  His  angels  and  the  emblems  of  His 
passion.  On  the  sides  of  the  portal  are  24 
figures  representing  12  virtues  and  their  oppo- 
site vices.  Beyond  these  are  four  other  bas- 
reliefs:  the  offering  of  Isaac — the  departure  of 
Abraham — Job  witnessing  the  destruction  of 
his  flocks — and  Job  reproving  his  wife.  On  the 
massive  doors  are  carved  Christ  bearing  His 
Cross,  and  the  Virgin  in  her  sorrow.  Apostles, 
patriarchs  and  kings  fill  up  the  niches  which  are 
left  on  either  hand.  The  other  two  entrances 
resemble  this  in  their  elaborate  designs,  only 


!     NOTRE    DAME.  53 

differing  in  the  scenes  represented.  Above 
these  is  a  gallery  of  small  pillars  containing 
statues  of  some  of  the  French  sovereigns. 
Looking  still  higher  up  yon  see  a  colossal  statue 
of  the  Virgin,  between  two  angels,  and  on  either 
side  a  figure  of  Adam  and  Eve.  Over  this  is  a 
vast  central  window,  and  above  all  rises  a  lofty 
gallery  of  slender  shafts,  while  on  either  corner 
is  a  noble  tower  204  feet  in  height. 

Passing  round  to  the  south  side  of  the 
church,  we  come  to  another  arched  entrance, 
ornamented  with  bas-reliefs  of  scenes  in  the  life 
of  Stephen.  In  the  rear  are  innumerable 
columns,  buttresses,  figures,  and  shafts,  at  whose 
elaborate  designs  one  gazes  with  wonder.  The 
north  side  also  has  an  entrance  on  which  are 
figures  and  statues  representing  the  Virgin 
crushing  the  Dragon — the  Nativity,  and  the 
Adoration  of  the  Mao;i.  The  Porte-Rouo;e  is 
another  splendid  portal,  between  which  and  the 
eastern  angle  of  the  church  are  carvings  which 
represent  the  Death,  Funeral,  and  Assumption 
of  the  Virgin — Christ  with  the  Angels,  and 
Christ  with  the  Virgin  on  a  throne,  the  Virgin 


54  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

in  an  agony  at  the  feet  of  the  Saviour,  and  also 
delivering  a  woman  who  is  about  to  sell  herself 
to  the  Devil.  Such  is  a  general  view  of  the  ex- 
terior of  the  noble  edifice.  Within  we  find  a 
vast  series  of  columns,  chapels,  arches,  pictures, 
altars,  and  statues,  which  would  require  many 
weeks  to  study  and  comprehend,  and  to  which 
no  description  can  do  full  justice. 

In  this  cathedral  are  performed  the  State 
ceremonies  of  France.  Here  the  first  Napoleon 
was  crowned  Emperor  ;  here  the  present  Em- 
peror was  married,  and  here,  when  the  people 
shall  call  for  the  ceremony,  the  Third  Napoleon 
will  be  crowned — for  although  the  Emperor,  he 
has  not  yet  received  the  crown  of  France. 

On  the  occasion  of  the  solemn  Te  Beam  for 
the  success  of  the  French  arms  at  Magenta,  the 
soldiers  of  the  National  Guard  and  of  the 
regular  army  were  drawn  up  on  either  side, 
from  the  Tuileries  to  the  cathedral,  and  these 
lines  were  themselves  a  magnificent  sight. 

The  scene  which  I  had  the  pleasure  of  wit- 
nessing was  thus  described  in  Gcdignant's  Mes- 
senger : 


IMPERIAL    CORTEGE.  55 

"The  cortege  left  the  Tuileries  by  the  Car- 
rousel, and  then  followed  the  Hue  de  Kivoli. 
A  squadron  of  the  mounted  municipal  guard 
headed  the  cortege,  after  whom  came  the  car- 
riages of  the  Princess  Mathilde,  the  Princess 
Clotilda,  and  next  that  of  the  Empress,  who 
was  accompanied  by  Prince  Jerome.  Her  Maj- 
esty wore  a  violet  silk  dress,  a  chapeau  of 
white  crape,  ornamented  with  a  violet  feather, 
and  a  white  lace  shawl.  Marshal  Magnan  and 
General  the  Marquis  de  Lawcestine,  followed 
by  a  numerous  staff,  escorted  the  Imperial  car- 
riage, which  was  followed  by  detachments  of 
lancers  of  the  Imperial  Guard  and  of  the  6th 
Dragoons.  The  preparations  made  at  the  ca- 
thedral were  on  a  grand  scale.  In  the  middle 
of  the  choir,  opposite  the  altar,  was  placed  a 
chair  of  state  for  the  Empress  Regent,  with 
seats  for  Prince  Jerome,  the  Princess  Clotilda, 
the  Princess  Mathilde,  and  the  other  princes 
and  princesses  of  the  Imperial  family.  Places 
were  also  arranged  for  the  cardinals,  bishops, 
marshals,  admirals,  grand  officers  of  the  Crown, 
the  household  of  the  Empress,  members  of  the 


56  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Senate,  Legislative  Body,  and  Council  of  State, 
as  well  as  accommodation  for  different  consti- 
tuted bodies.  A  second  salute  announced  the 
close  of  the  ceremony,  when  her  Majesty  and 
the  cortege  returned  to  the  Tuileries  in  the 
same  state  in  which  they  had  left  it.  A  violent 
storm  of  thunder,  lightning  and  heavy  rain  burst 
over  Paris  just  as  the  Empress  arrived  at  the 
cathedral,  and  had  ceased  before  the  ceremony 
had  concluded.  At  night,  the  public  offices, 
theatres,  and  a  vast  number  of  private  houses, 
were  again  most  brilliantly  illuminated." 

In  the  sacristy  of  the  cathedral  is  a  museum 
of  religious  curiosities  and  relics,  which  have 
been  collecting  for  ages.  This  church,  with, 
indeed,  all  the  old  churches  of  Paris,  is  now 
undergoing  thorough  repairs,  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  Emperor,  who  seems  determined 
to  preserve  them  in  their  original  beauty  and 
splendor. 

Passing  away  from  this  spot,  we  come  to  the 
church  of  St.  Gemiain  l'Auxerrois.  which  is  over 
nine  centimes  old,  and  has  wonderfully  escaped 
the  devastations  of  the  Revolutionary  mol is  <  >f 


THE    REFORMATION.  57 

Paris.  The  exterior  of  the  church  is  decorated 
with  bas-reliefs  and  statues,  and  the  interior  is 
gorgeous  beyond  all  power  of  words  to  de- 
scribe, with  frescoes  and  paintings,  statues  and 
columns,  altars  and  chapels,  covered  with  gold. 
But  its  chief  interest  is  its  historic  recollec- 
tions. 

Early  in  the  progress  of  the  Reformation, 
the  truths  of  the  gospel  began  to  awaken  the 
people  of  France  from  the  slumbers  of  spiritual 
death.  When  the  Protestant  Church  assumed  a 
distinct  organization,  its  principal  features  were 
like  those  of  the  other  continental  churches, 
being  distinctly  and  decidedly  Presbyterian. 

The  first  General  Assembly  was  held  in 
1559,  one  year  before  a  similar  body  first  met 
in  Scotland.  In  the  course  of  twelve  years 
2150  churches  had  been  established  throughout 
France,  some  of  which  enrolled  as  many  as 
7,000  members,  among  whom  were  many  of 
the  noblest  men  of  the  age.  The  Huguenots 
had  obtained,  as  they  supposed,  liberty  of  con- 
science and  immunity  from  further  wrong  ;  and 
Charles  IX.,  King  of  France,  in  order  to  lull 
4 


58  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

them  into  security,  and  thus  prepare  the  way 
for  his  bloody  purpose,  declared  that  he  was 
convinced  of  the  impossibility  of  forcing  men's 
consciences,  and  that  he  had  determined  to 
allow  every  man  the  free  exercise  of  his  re- 
ligion. The  Huguenot  leaders  were  loaded 
with  favors,  and  this  deception  was  kept  up  for 
two  years,  until  all  suspicion  was  completely 
lulled.  On  the  occasion  of  the  marriage  of  the 
King's  daughter  Margaret,  with  Henry  of  Na- 
varre, all  of  the  royal  and  noble  Protestants 
were  invited  to  Paris  to  witness  this  union — a 
new  pledge  of  reconciliation  and  concession. 
They  came,  and  the  plot  was  ripe  for  execution. 
Sixty  thousand  armed  men  were  collected  in  the 
city,  and  the  curtain  rose  upon  the  dreadful  and 
bloody  drama  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Eve,  the 
24th  of  August,  1572. 

A  little  after  midnight  the  deep  tones  of  the 
cathedral  bell  summoned  the  soldiers  to  their 
work  of  death.  First  perished  the  Admiral 
Coligny,  and  then,  at  the  sound  of  the  bell  of 
the  Palais  de  Justice,  the  massacre  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew began.     At  the  signal,  every  Catholic, 


st.  Bartholomew's  eve.  59 

having  been  forewarned,  placed  a  light  in  his 
window  and  a  white  cross  upon  his  cap,  bound 
a  white  scarf  upon  his  arm,  and  then  rushed 
forth  to  the  slaughter  of  the  heretics.  The 
dwellings  of  the  Protestants  were  attacked, 
and  the  inmates  dragged  forth  to  death.  The 
streets  ran  blood ;  and  the  groans  of  the  dying, 
the  shrieks  of  the  wounded,  and  the  imploring 
cries  of  women  and  children,  made  music  for 
the  actors  in  this  horrid  drama  of  death.  The 
King  looked  out  upon  the  scene  with  frantic  and 
fiendish  joy  ;  the  ladies  of  the  court  amused 
themselves  with  looking  at  the  dead  bodies  of 
those  slain  within  the  palace,  with  whom  they 
had  been  engaged  in  social  intercourse  a  few 
short  hours  before.  Sixty  thousand  men  hunted 
down  their  brethren.  For  seven  days  this 
dreadful  slaughter  continued,  and  over  ten 
thousand  Protestants  perished  in  Paris  alone, 
and  sixty  thousand  more  throughout  France. 

The  news  was  received  at  Rome  with  exces- 
sive joy.  The  Cardinal  Lorraine  rewarded  the 
messenger  who  brought  the  tidings  of  these 
unparalleled  atrocities  with  a  gift  of  ten  thou- 


60  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

sand  crowns.  At  Lyons,  the  Pope's  legate 
absolved  the  murderers,  by  making  over  them 
the  sign  of  the  cross.  Pope  Gregory  XIII. 
congratulated  the  King  on  the  successful  com- 
pletion of  a  purpose  "  so  long  meditated  and  so 
happily  executed  for  the  good  of  religion"  and 
triumphal  medals  were  struck,  commemorating 
the  occasion.  Thus  Rome  perpetuated  her 
shame,  and  gave  her  sanction  to  the  massacre  of 
thousands  of  innocent  and  unoffending  Chris- 
tians. This  is  all  matter  of  history,  and,  try 
as  he  may,  Bishop  Hughes  cannot  blot  out  the 
record,  though  he  may  efface  it  from  our  school- 
books. 

When  I  entered  this  church  of  St.  Germain 
I  recalled  these  scenes  of  St.  Bartholomew,  for 
it  was  in  the  tower  of  this  cathedral  that  the 
fatal  signal  was  given  for  the  Massacre.  All 
night  long  its  bells  were  tolling,  mingling  their 
deep  vibrations  with  the  shrieks  of  the  wounded 
and  the  groans  of  the  dying.  As  I  passed 
down  its  aisles,  indifferent  to  its  gorgeous  dec- 
orations— thinking  only  of  the  scenes  with  which 
it  was  associated — the  bell  struck  the  hour,  and 


SAINTECHAPELLE.  61 

as  its  heavy  tones  sounded  upon  my  ear  I  started 
from  my  reverie  as  though  I  were  hearing  again 
the  awful  summons  to  the  work  of  death. 

Passing  away  from  this  spot,  we  come  to  the 
Pantheon,  built  upon  the  ruins  of  St.  Greneveive 
by  Madame  Pompadour, — a  pretty  person  to 
build  a  church !  The  funds  were  raised  by  lottery. 
The  dome  of  the  church  is  2G8  feet  high,  and 
the  whole  edifice  is  a  noble  pile  of  architecture. 
Its  pillars  and  walls  still  bear  the  marks  of  the 
last  Revolution. 

We  must  not  omit  the  most  sjilendid  of  the 
churches  of  Paris,  the  Sainte  Chapelle,  attached 
to  the  Palais  de  Justice,  which,  in  the  magnifi- 
cence of  its  statuary,  frescoes,  paintings  and  dec- 
orations, excells  all  the  rest.  The  form  of  the 
church  is  somewhat  peculiar.  It  is  one  hundred 
and  eight  feet  long,  fifty-five  feet  in  breadth,  and 
one  hundred  and  thirty-nine  feet  in  height — 
higher  than  it  is  long  or  broad.  I  will  not 
attempt  to  describe  this  wonderful  church. 
Among  its  relics  is,  of  course,  a  piece  of  the 
True  Cross.  There  are  very  few  churches  upon 
the  Continent  which  are  destitute  of  this  relic. 


62  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  there  are  enough  pieces  of 
the  True  Cross  in  the  different  Continental 
churches  to  make  several  of  the  size  of  the  origi- 
nal. I  have  often  thought,  in  looking  at  such 
relics,  of  a  visit  which  a  "gentleman  paid  to  one 
of  these  churches,  with  a  native  of  the  Green  Isle 
for  a  cicerone.  "Here,"  said  the  Irishman,  "is 
the  sword  with  which  Balaam  slew  the  ass." 
"But  Balaam  didn't  have  any  sword,"  rejnied 
the  visitor ;  "  he  only  wished  for  one,  with  which 
to  smite  the  animal.11  "Eh?"  rejoined  the  Irish- 
man ;  "  "Well,  then,  this  is  the  sword  which 
Balaam  wished  for."  Many  of  the  relics  which 
I  saw  were  of  a  similar  character. 

A  great  contrast  to  all  this  splendor  and  folly 
is  seen  in  the  American  Chapel,  in  the  Hue  de 
Bern.  I  found  here  a  noble  band  of  earnest 
and  faithful  Christians  laboring  for  the  good  of 
souls.  Episcopal  services  were  held  in  the 
morning,  and  in  the  afternoon  the  form  of 
worship  was  like  our  own.  On  both  occasions 
Christians  of  all  denominations  united  with 
evident  cordiality  and  good  feeling. 

There  was  also  a  most  promising  Bible-class, 


VERSAILLES.  63 

under  the  tuition  of  an  American  gentleman, 
resident  in  Paris. 

But   leaving    the   churches,   let    us    take   a 
glimpse  at  some  of  the  palaces  of  France.     Our 
first  visit  is  to  Versailles,  which  we  reach  by 
rail  in  half  an  hour.     Walking  up  a  fine  old 
boulevard,  which  leads  through  the  town,  we 
come  to  the  Rue  de  Reservoirs,  which  terminates 
at  the  palace.     Three  hundred  years  ago  this 
spot  was  an  immense  forest,  which  had  been  the 
great  hunting-ground  of  the  Court  of  France. 
Here  Louis  XIII.  built  a  pavilion  in  which  to 
rest  after  the  toils  of  the  chase.     Louis  XIV.  at 
length   came   to   the   throne,  a   monarch    who 
loved  pleasure  and  who  followed  it  through  all 
the  fearful  mazes  of  a  guilty  life,  surrounding 
himself  with  every  appliance  which  his  volup- 
tuous nature  demanded.     His  palace  stood  near 
the  church  of  St.  Denis,  where  lay  the  bones  of 
his  ancestors,  and  he  could  not  bear  the  prox- 
imity of  these  silent  monitors.     The  nearness  of 
the  tomb,  and  its  stern  and  awful  realities,  in- 
terfered with  his  life   of  guilty  pleasure,   and 
brought  thoughts  of  death — thoughts  which  he 


64  IMPRESSIONS   ABROAD. 

hated  most — to  his  mind.  He  wished  to  live 
undisturbed  by  such  gloomy  reflections,  and  as 
it  was  the  custom  then,  he  believed  that  the 
common  people  lived  solely  for  their  monarch's 
pleasure,  and  accumulated  wealth  only  that 
their  masters  might  spend  it,  and  determined  to 
build  Versailles,  at  a  distance  from  St.  Denis  and 
its  melancholy  thoughts.  Upon  this  palace  he 
lavished  the  immense  sum  of  $200,000,000,  and 
in  its  erection  30,000  soldiers,  besides  mechanics 
and  laborers  innumerable,  were  employed,  and 
the  place  soon  contained  a  population  of  one 
hundred  thousand  persons.  The  surrounding 
wilderness  became  a  garden  surpassing  all 
description,  filled  with  statues,  groves,  fountains, 
lawns,  and  wonders  of  nature  and  of  art,  rival- 
ling Babylon  in  beauty  and  grandeur.  Words 
fail  to  describe  this  royal  abode ;  no  pencil  can 
do  it  justice,  and  even  sight  itself  fails,  amid  so 
many  dazzling  scenes. 

The  palace  is  built  with  a  projecting  centre, 
and  two  extensive  wings,  and  contains  over  five 
hundred  rooms,  filled  with  paintings  and 
statues.     The   front   of   the    building  is  about 


RECOLLECTIONS.  65 

twelve  hundred  feet  long,  and  one  travels  nearly 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  going  from  one  end  to 
the  other  of  this  immense  pile.  On  the  extreme 
right  wing,  occupying  about  as  much  space  in 
comparison  with  the  rest  of  the  building  as  does 
a  little  bed-room  over  the  stairs,  or  a  closet,  in 
an  ordinary  house,  is  a  splendid  theatre,  in 
which  sat  the  beauties  of  the  Courts  of  Louis 
XIV.  and  XV.  and  of  ther  kings  since  their 
reigns,  to  witness  the  performances  of  the  best 
actors  of  the  age. 

Pause  for  a  moment  in  the  box  where  royalty 
once  sat,  with  all  the  frail  beauties  of  the 
French  court,  and  recall  the  past.  Think  how 
the  lost  and  infamous,  though  beautiful  creatures 
of  the  French  kings  trod  these  halls  even  in 
the  presence  of  the  queens  whom  they  had  dis- 
placed from  their  monarch's  affections.  Recall 
the  misery  and  woe  under  which  many  a  noble 
heart  here  sank  down  with  sorrow,  and  learn  a 
sad  but  impressive  lesson  of  the  terrible  results 
of  sin,  and  the  fearful  examples  of  splendid  mis- 
ery which  the  history  of  France  presents. 

Upon  that  stage  poor  Marie  Antoinette  once 
4* 


66  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

sank  down  with  shame  and  grief  while  enacting 
a  tragedy  (too  soon  to  be  followed  by  one  far 
more  terrible),  when  she  heard  the  hiss  of  her 
dissolute  husband.  There  operas  were  perform- 
ed at  a  nightly  expense  of  $25,000,  paid  for  by 
the  poor  toiling  millions  of  France,  and  there 
the  excited  and  angry  mob  held  its  revels  when 
it  had  broken  down  the  power  of  royalty,  and 
hung  the  inmates  of  the  surrounding  palaces  at 
their  very  gates. 

Passing  out  of  this  place  with  its  terrible 
memories,  we  enter  a  vast  gallery  of  sculpture 
of  the  kings  and  queens  of  France.  Parallel 
to  this  are  two  other  halls  of  equal  length, 
(300  feet,)  the  one  devoted  to  paintings  de- 
scriptive of  French  history,  and  the  other  to 
the  story  of  Constautine,  &c. 

Leaving  these  halls,  we  enter  the  Royal  Chap- 
el, gorgeously  fitted  up,  to  which  the  dissolute 
Court  used  to  retire  to  atone  for  days  of  sin  by 
an  hour  of  worship  ;  and  feeling  a  sentiment  of 
awe  at  the  surroundings  of  religion,  imagined 
themselves  forgiven,  and  went  out  to  new  sin. 
Religion  was  fashionable  then,  and  went  in  sil- 


GALLERIES.  67 

ver  slippers,  and  they  evidently  thought  that 
they  had  solved  the  problem,  how  sin  and  piety 
could  exist  together.  Crowds  went  to  church 
■more  to  see  the  king  than  to  worship.  To  test 
this,  a  maitre  one  day  announced  that  the  king 
would  not  be  present  at  chapel  that  day,  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  church  was  empty. 

Here,  at  yonder  magnificent  altar,  Marie  An- 
toinette was  married,  and  began  that  sad  drama 
which  was  at  length  terminated  amid  the  hor- 
rors of  the  guillotine,  and  the  taunts  and  execra- 
tions of  the  cruel  mob  that  was  thirsting  for  her 
blood.  Passing  hence  through  the  Saloon  of 
Hercules,  and  other  halls  named  after  mytho- 
logical characters,  and  fitted  up  to  correspond 
with  the  name,  the  eye  is  dazzled  with  their 
varied  beauties.  The  ceilings  are  adorned  with 
the  finest  frescoes,  and  rich,  gilded  cornices ;  while 
splendid  paintings,  and  furniture  of  the  most 
costly  kind,  meet  you  at  every  turn.  Here 
is  the  Looking-Glass  Gallery,  242  feet  long,  by 
35  wide,  and  42  feet  high.  Turning  to  the  left, 
we  come  to  the  private  rooms  of  the  royal 
family. 


68  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Here  is  the  cabinet  of  Louis  XIV.,  into  which 
Madame  du  Barry,  one  of  his  courtesans,  once 
entered,  while  the  king  was  busy,  snatched  a 
bundle  of  State  papers  from  his  hand  and  threw 
them  into  the  fire,  the  king  laughing  gaily  the 
while.  That  same  du  Barry,  a  short  time  after- 
wards, called  out,  while  in  the  grasp  of  a  rude 
mob,  for  "  Life ! "  "  life  I "  while  the  only  replies 
to  her  entreaties  were  brutal  jests  upon  the  soft 
pillow  which  the  guillotine  would  make  for 
that  fair  head.  Surrounded  by  a  drunken  and 
maddened  mob,  she  was  dragged  in  a  cart  to 
the  block.  Her  long  tresses,  with  which  the 
king  had  often  dallied,  were  shorn  from  her 
head,  and  from  the  struggling  victim  was  heard 
the  piteous  cry  of  "Save  me,  save  me!"  But 
her  distress  and  her  dangerous  beauty  only  drew 
upon  her  the  rude  laugh  of  the  rabble.  With 
coarse  violence  her  executioners  bound  her  to 
the  fatal  plank;  the  glittering  knife  fell,  and 
her  limbs  relaxed  in  death  as  her  head  fell  into 
the  trough — and  all  was  over.  Hurrying  away 
from  these  apartments,  we  enter  the  small  rooms 
of  the  kin 2^. 


A    SAD    DEATH,  69 

Here  is  the  luxurious  bed-chamber,  in  which 
Louis  XIV.  died — for  even  kings  must  die — 
upon  a  splendid  couch,  decorated  as  one  would 
imagine  the  bed  of  so  profligate  a  monarch  to  be, 
attended  only  by  an  old  and  withered  woman, 
for  all  his  Court  had  fled  and  left  him  alone  with 
that  loathsome  disease,  the  small-pox.  The 
furniture  of  this  bed-room  was  twelve  years  in 
making. 

Here,  too,  died  Louis  XV.,  surrounded  by  his 
courtiers,  to  whom  he  said,  with  a  most  touch- 
ing pathos,  "Gentlemen,  gentlemen,  I  implore 
your  pardon  for  the  bad  example  I  have  set 
you.  Think  of  me  sometimes,  I  pray  you !  O 
God,  come  to  my  aid  and  help  me."  Fit  com- 
mentary upon  his  career.  A  vast  throng  stood 
in  the  court-yard  awaiting  the  tidings  of  his 
death.  An  officer  of  the  household  took  a  staff 
and  broke  it,  saying,  "Gentlemen,  the  king  is 
dead,"  and  then  raising  another  rod,  shouted, 
"  Vive  le  Roi"  and  the  throng  welcomed  the 
rising  Star  of  France,  and  forgot  him  whose  light 
was  quenched  in  the  night  of  the  grave. 

Passing  onward  through  splendid   suites  of 


70  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

rooms,  we  come  to  the  queen's  bed-chamber 
Here  it  was  that  Marie  Antoinette  sought  for 
rest  and  shelter  when  the  mob  was  thundering; 
at  the  gates  of  the  palace.  From  this  spot  she 
escaped  with  her  life,  only  to  fall  by  a  more 
fearful  death  after  her  trial  before  the  Revolu- 
tionary tribunal. 

But  we  cannot  linger  here.  Gallery  succeeds 
to  gallery  in  this  wonderful  spot,  each  one  vy- 
ing with  the  other  in  interest  and  beauty — or 
being  a  repetition  of  previous  splendors.  Every- 
where we  meet  some  new  monument  of  taste, 
wealth,  beauty,  and  folly.  We  might  pause 
here  for  days,  for  there  are  hundreds  of  rooms, 
and  thousands  of  pictures,  and  jewels,  and  stat- 
ues, and  objects  of  historic  interest.  Here  is 
the  spot  where  Madame  Montespan,  who  had 
left  her  husband  to  become  the  mother  of  the 
children  of  an  abandoned  king,  when  ordered 
to  leave  the  palace,  seized  a  knife  and  attempt- 
ed to  take  the  life  of  her  child.  Here  lived 
Madame  Maintenon,  who  succeeded  in  the  short- 
lived affections  of  the  monarch.  Here  flourish- 
ed the  most  majestic  of  all  the  Bourbons,  of 


PETITE    TRIANON.  71 

whom  it  was  said,  "They  who  occupy  thrones 
are  the  most  unfortunate  in  the  world." 

Going  out  of  the  palace,  one  notices  statues 
in  every  angle,  chief  among  which  is  the  eques- 
trian statue  of  Louis  XIV.  The  State  carriages 
also  attract  attention,  that  of  Charles  X.  costing 
$100,000,  as  much  money  as  our  President 
receives  for  his  four  years'  services. 

The  Park  of  Versailles  is  immense,  containing 
about  thirty-two  thousand  acres,  and  is  dotted 
here  and  there  with  small  palaces,  among  which 
is  the  Petite  Trianon,  splendidly  furnished  and 
built  in  the  Roman  style,  and  in  which  the  king 
used  to  retire  and  play  the  part  of  an  humble 
innkeeper,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  his  court 
acting  in  various  capacities — one  as  the  baker, 
another  as  the  cook,  and  so  on,  forgetting  for  a 
while  their  rank,  and  occupying  themselves 
with  the  cares  of  humble  life.  This  palace  was 
built  for  Madame  du  Barry,  but  has  been  suc- 
cessively occupied  by  all  the  queens  of  France ; 
and  here  lived  the  first  Napoleon  with  his  Jo- 
sephine. 

There  is  one  solemn  lesson  to  be  drawn  from 


72  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

this  scene — the  vanity  of  human  greatness  and 
glory.  It  was  short  pleasure  and  long  woe. 
Far  better  piety,  even  in  poverty  and  sorrow, 
than  to  march,  in  royal  robes  and  gilded  crowns, 
to  eternal  misery  and  death.  God  grant  that 
we  may  never  see  such  sights  here,  but  that 
Americans,  satisfied  with  their  quiet  homes— 
the  abodes  of  love,  peace,  virtue,  and  purity — 
may  continue  to  live  in  Republican  simplicity, 
and  refuse  to  imitate  either  the  vices  or  the 
splendor  of  European  courts, 


IV. 

PARIS  TO  LYONS. 

WE  have  time  to  take  but  a  parting  glance 
at  two  or  three  more  of  the  objects  of 
interest  in  Paris. — To  begin  with  the  Tuileries, 
the  present  residence  of  the  Emperor.  The  pal- 
ace is  about  1,000  feet  long,  by  118  wide.  We 
pass  up  a  broad  staircase,  and  through  suites  of 
rooms,  galleries,  and  saloons,  in  some  respects 
surpassing  in  richness  and  splendor  those  of 
Versailles.  Draperies  of  velvet  and  gold,  richly 
frescoed  ceilings,  exquisite  paintings,  statues  of 
marble,  bronze,  and  silver,  and  carpets  woven 
in  the  looms  of  the  Gobelins,  make  up  the 
sights  which  are  to  be  seen  here.  The  hangings 
of  the  Throne  Room  are  of  dark  red  velvet, 
manufactured  at  Lyons,  with  palm  leaves  and 
wreaths  wrought  in  gold.     The  throne  is  cano- 


74  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

pied  with,  the  same  material,  and  stands  upon 
an  elevated  platform,  upon  the  back  of  which 
is  the  imperial  eagle,  surrounded  by  a  wreath 
of  gold. 

But  we  cannot  pause  here,  except  to  look  out 
from  the  large  centre  window  and  admire  the 
magnificent  scene  which  stretches  before  us,  and 
to  think  of  the  sad  fate  of  many  who  once  lived 
amid  these  splendors,  and  who,  during  the  Rev- 
olutions of  France,  passed  away  like  a  dream. 

Here  dwelt  the  First  Consul,  and  when  he 
was  declared  Emperor,  it  was  again  his  home. 
Here  dwelt  the  royal  family  after  the  restora- 
tion, until  the  palace  was  again  attacked  by  the 
mob  of  1830.  Here  lived  Louis  Phillippe, 
when  he  was  recalled  to  his  throne  by  the  cries 
of  Vive  le  Roi!  and  here  he  signed  his  abdica- 
tion,  when  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries  was  till- 
ed with  a  fierce  and  angry  mob,  from  which  he 
barely  escaped  with  his  life.  And  here  lives 
the  present  Xapoleon ;  but  for  how  long  who 
can  predict  i  It  may  be  for  life;  it  may  be  that 
the  next  steamer  may  bring  the  news  of  his  ab- 
dication, or  of  his  death.     Alas!  France  wants 


THE    LOU  V  KB.  75 

the  elements  of  a  stable  government.  She 
needs  what  it  will  take  ages  to  give  her:  the 
Family,  Home,  the  Bible,  and  the  Sabbath. 
Perpetual  life  out  of  doors;  the  confusion  of 
the  first  day  of  the  week,  with  all  the  others ; 
and  a  religion  given  by  priests,  are  enough  to 
make  any  o-overnment  unstable. 

Leaving  the  Tuileries,  we  enter  the  ancient 
palace  of  the  Louvre,  with  its  vast  halls  and 
saloons  filled  with  rich  collections  of  paintings 
and  sculptures,  and  historical  and  antique  curi- 
osities. It  is  the  work  of  a  day  simple  to  pass 
through  it.  Here  is  the  Antique  Museum, 
made  up  of  statues,  bas-reliefs,  and  frescoes, 
from  Egypt,  Greece,  and  Rome,  which  seem  to 
have  reproduced  the  arts  of  these  countries  and 
fixed  them  in  all  their  varied  extent  and  beauty. 

The  Museum  of  the  Sovereigns  is  composed 
of  the  relics  of  the  kings  and  queens  of  France. 
Here  is  the  shoe  of  Marie  Antoinette ;  the  scep- 
tre of  Charlemagne ;  the  crown  of  Louis  XVI. ; 
and  the  writing-desk  of  Louis  Phillippe.  But 
we  pause  longest,  and  with  most  indescribable 
feelings,  in  the  room  wholly  devoted  to  the  arti- 


76  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

cles  owned  and  used  by  Napoleon  I.  Here  is 
his  full  dress,  worn  on  State  occasions ;  his  sad- 
dle; his  gloves;  his  uniform,  worn  at  Marengo  ; 
the  hat  he  wore  at  St.  Helena,  and  the  handker- 
chief with  which  the  death-damps  were  wiped 
from  his  brow  when  he  passed  away  forever 
from  the  dreams  of  battle. 

But,  giving  a  rapid  glance  at  the  Marine  Mu- 
seum, filled  with  models  of  the  ships,  seaports, 
and  public  docks  of  France ;  at  the  Assyrian 
Gallery,  at  the  Museum  of  Modern  Sculpture, 
Paintings,  &e.,  we  must  hasten  to  the  Luxem- 
bourg, a  palace  which  was  built  for  Marie  de 
Medicis,  in  1612,  where  we  find  a  repetition  of 
the  magnificence  of  the  Tuileries  and  the  galle- 
ries of  the  Louvre.  Leaving  this,  we  visit  the 
Hotel  de  Cluny,  one  of  the  finest  remaining 
specimens  of  the  ancient  mansions  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  It  was  built  about  the  year 
1480,  upon  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  Roman  bath, 
and  was  inhabited  by  Mary,  the  sister  of  Henry 
VIIL,  of  England,  and  the  widow  of  Louis  XII., 
of  France.  After  passing  through  many  hands, 
it  is  now  in  possession  of  the  government,  which 


HOTEL    DE    CLUNY.  77 

has  restored  it  to  its  former  appearance,  so  that 
it  presents  an  exact  fac  simile  of  a  Parisian  man- 
sion in  the  sixteenth  century.  Even  in  the  fur- 
nishing of  the  rooms,  this  idea  is  carried  out, 
and  they  are  crowded  with  relics  of  an  intensely 
interesting  historical  character.  Here  we  find 
beautiful  tapestry,  ecclesiastical  dresses  of  al- 
most every  age,  curious  suits  of  armor,  old  fur- 
niture, crockery,  enamels,  glass  ware,  antique 
beds,  quaint  ear-rings,  altar-pieces,  and,  in  short, 
everything  necessary  to  give  a  correct  idea  of 
life  in  the  earlier  ages  of  the  French  nation. 
Near  this  museum  are  the  remains  of  an  ancient 
Roman  palace,  in  which  Julian  lived  when  he 
was  declared  Emperor  by  his  troops. 

But  leaving  unnoticed  many  scenes  of  great 
interest,  we  hasten  to  our  hotel,  and  bidding 
adieu  to  our  hostess,  and  to  Paris,  we  take  tick- 
ets for  Fontainebleau,  on  our  way  to  Lyons. 

For  my  part,  I  quitted  the  city  without  a  re- 
gret. I  had  spent  two  weeks  there  looking  at 
its  wonders,  and  recalling  the  thrilling  histories 
which  are  connected  with  its  monuments;  but  I 
had  little  sympathy  with  that  gay,  excitable,  and 


78  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

pleasure-loving  people.  If  I  had  no  soul  to  save, 
or  God  to  serve,  I  might  be  content  to  live  there. 
But  I  sat  down  in  the  car — saw  the  conductor 
lock  the  door — heard  the  shriek  of  the  locomo- 
tive; saw  the  train  move  on;  knew  that  I 
was  probably  never  to  see  that  beautiful  city 
again,  and  was  whirled  away  into  the  valley  of 
the  Seine  without  a  sigh  of  regret  for  all  that  I 
was  leaving  behind  me.  God  forbid  that  our 
own  land  should  ever  number  among  its  cities 
one  like  Paris — great,  powerful,  and  magnificent 
as  it  is. 

For  many  miles  it  is  visible,  as  we  pass  on 
southward,  through  smiling  fields  and  pictur- 
esque villages,  skirting  the  bright  waters  of  the 
Seine.  It  is  the  season  of  harvest,  and  the  fields 
are  alive  with  the  peasantry — young  and  old, 
men,  women,  and  children — busily  engaged  in 
reaping  the  golden  grain  or  gathering  it  into 
bundles.  A  ride  of  forty  miles  brings  us  to  the 
station  of  Fontainebleau,  which  we  reach  over  a 
splendid  viaduct  of  thirty  arches.  This  is  a  city 
of  about  10,000  inhabitants,  but  with  few  attrac- 
tions,  save  the  splendid    palace,  which   stands 


FONTAINEBLEAU.  79 

upon  the  outskirts  of  a  vast  forest,  the  famous 
hunting-ground  of  the  kings  of  France,  the  scene 
of  exciting  dramas  and  magnificent  displays 
upon  which  the  curtain  of  death  has  now  fallen. 
Three  hundred  years  ago  the  present  chateau 
was  built.  Here  were  held  princely  revels  when 
Charles  of  Germany  was  the  guest  of  Francis. 
Here  was  signed  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes,  so  fatal  to  the  Protestant  cause  in 
France.  Here  Napoleon  announced  to  Jose- 
phine his  intended  divorce ;  and  here,  standing 
upon  those  stairs,  he  reviewed  his  army  and 
took  leave  of  it,  when  he  had  signed  his  abdi- 
cation. 

I  need  not  attempt  a  description  of  Fontaine- 
bleau.  It  is  but  a  repetition  of  Versailles,  with 
its  memorials  of  regal  grandeur,  and  its  sad  and 
touching  lessons  of  the  transit*  >ry  and  uncertain 
nature  of  all  earthly  glory.  You  wander  through 
vast  saloons  and  galleries  filled  with  the  wealth 
of  ages,  and  think  of  Marie  Antoinette  and  her 
tragic  end  ;  and  Josephine,  with  her  painful  and 
sad  story ;  and  Napoleon,  whose  star  went  down 
amid  storm  and   darkness.     You  wander  over 


80  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  splendid  gardens  and  grounds,  recall  the 
time  when  they  witnessed  the  mustering  of  gay 
courtiers  and  dashing  huntsmen,  and  heard  the 
call  of  the  bugle  and  the  deep  baying  of  the 
hounds.  You  think  of  the  times  when  the 
vast  avenues  were  crowded  wTith  the  equipages 
of  princes,  who  swept  upwards  towards  these 
festal  halls,  now  all  deserted  and  silent,  save 
when  curious  visitors  enter  them,  and  hurry 
through,  little  heeding  the  sad  stories  they 
might  tell. 

All  has  vanished  of  this  splendor.  The  pa- 
geant has  gone  by.  Glad  voices  are  hushed. 
Bright  eyes  are  quenched  in  death.  The  robe 
and  the  sceptre  and  the  diadem  are  exchanged 
for  the  cerements  of  the  grave. 

Entering  the  cars  again,  we  are  whirled 
through  a  beautiful  and  fertile  country,  and  by 
many  a  fine  and  populous  city,  until  we  reach 
Lyons  and  the  Hotel  Callet. 

A  letter  of  introduction  to  our  consul,  Hon. 
J.  W.  White,  procured  for  us  the  kind  attentions 
of  himself  and  family.  It  affords  me  great  pleas- 
ure thus  "publicly  to  speak  of  our  representa- 


THE    AMEKTICAN    CONSUL.  81 

tive  in  that  city,  one  who  well  sustains  the  rep- 
utation of  America,  and  who  by  his  official  and 
private  character  has  secured  the  respect  and 
esteem  of  the  citizens  of  Lyons,  and  the  grateful 
memory  of  many  who  have  received  his  atten- 
tions and  kindness. 

I  met  at  his  house  the  venerable  Count  de 
Castellane,  the  oldest  Marshal  of  France,  who 
was  an  officer  under  the  first  Napoleon  during 
the  Russian  campaign.  At  his  advanced  age 
he  is  still  hale  and  hearty,  and  has  the  charge 
of  one  hundred  thousand  soldiers. 

The  city  of  Lyons  has  a  population  of  about 
275,000  inhabitants,  and  is  built  on  a  tongue 
of  land,  about  three  miles  long,  between  the 
rivers  Seine  and  Rhone,  the  one  having  swept 
down  hither  from  the  northern  slope  of  the 
Jura  mountains,  the  other  from  the  tremendous 
glaciers  of  Switzerland,  through  the  pure  waters 
of  Lake  Leman.  Wending  our  way  to  the  cita- 
del, commanding  the  town,  from  which  we  have 
a  magnificent  view  of  the  valley  of  the  Rhone; 
we  can  see  the  vast  ranges  of  hills,  terminating 
in  the  Alps,  prominent  among  which  is  the  glit- 
5 


8Z  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

tering  summit  of  Mont  Blanc.  In  the  rear  of 
this  terrace  is  the  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame, 
on  whose  tower  is  a  statue  of  the  Virgin,  twen- 
ty-eight feet  high.  Not  far  from  this  is  the  old 
church  of  St.  Irenseus,  built  over  an  ancient 
crypt  used  by  the  early  Christians  of  Lyons. 
An  old  woman,  intensely  French,  bearing  a 
lighted  candle,  preceded  us  down  into  the  crypt. 
Calling  our  attention  to  the  ancient  pavement, 
which  remains  unaltered  since  it  was  first  laid, 
she  leads  the  way  to  the  tombs  of  Iremeus  and 
other  early  Christians;  and  also  to  the  tomb 
of  a  female,  who,  in  her  misapplied  devotion, 
spent  the  closing  years  of  her  life,  which  she 
should  have  adorned  by  deeds  of  active  charity, 
in  this  subterranean  abode,  counting  over  her 
beads,  saying  her  prayers,  and  thinking  that  she 
was  serving  God.  Still  farther  on  is  a  grated 
window,  looking  into  a  dark  vault,  where  are 
collected  the  bones  of  nineteen  thousand  mar- 
tyrs, who  are  said  to  have  perished  in  the  first 
ages  of  the  church. 

In  the  fine  Gothic  cathedral  of  St.  Jean,  be- 
gun in  the  seventh  century,  we  witnessed  the 


SILK   MANUFACTORIES.  83 

ceremonies  of  the  grand  Te  Deum,  in  honor  of 
the  victory  of  Magenta.  Climbing  up,  through 
suffocating  staircases,  into  a  gallery  sixty  feet 
from  the  floor,  we  had  a  full  view  of  the  mag- 
nificent procession,  composed  of  officers  of  rank, 
cardinals,  priests,  acolytes,  and  soldiers,  as  it  en- 
tered the  church.  The  soldiers  went  through 
their  drill  at  the  word  of  command  and  at  the 
tap  of  the  drum,  while  the  religious  services 
went  on,  in  no  wise  interrupted  by  the  crash  of 
arms. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  Lyons 
is  her  manufactories  of  silk.  In  the  high  parts 
of  the  city,  amid  old  houses  and  steep  and  nar- 
row streets,  we  find  a  large  portion  of  the  sub- 
urbs devoted  to  this  business.  There  are  about 
32,000  looms  engaged  in  it.  These  factories  are 
not  large,  like  our  cotton  mills,  but  a  proprietor 
rents  out  an  ordinary  house  to  a  factor,  who  fills 
it  with  looms.  Frequently  the  work-shop  and 
dwelling  apartments  are  in  the  same^  house,  so 
that  the  operations  are  most  economical.  They 
have  carried  their  work  to  great  .perfection,  be- 
ing able  to  weave  into  the  silk  the  most  exqui- 


84  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

site  pictures  and  portraits.  The  machinery  for 
the  work  resembles,  in  its  general  details,  the 
power  carpet-looms.  There  are  38,000  men 
employed  at  this  work,  and  their  influence  in 
the  city  sometimes  makes  the  greatest  police 
vigilance  necessary,  especially  in  times  of  panic 
and  commercial  depression.  During  the  last 
crisis,  when  hundreds  were  out  of  employment 
and  clamoring  for  bread,  the  Emperor  ordered 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  a  large  park,  to  be  laid 
out,  and  so  furnished  employment  for  fourteen 
hundred  men,  saving  as  many  families  from 
want,  and  making  himself  intensely  popular. 

Lyons,  although  a  Roman  Catholic  city,  has 
several  Protestant  churches,  which  are  sources 
of  great  good  to  the  people.  I  attended  service 
at  the  English  Episcopal  chapel,  where  I  heard 
a  most  excellent  sermon  from  Mr.  Barter,  who 
also  administered  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper.  As  I  partook  of  these  consecrated  ele- 
ments in  that  city,  far  away  from  home,  I  felt 
that  I  could  heartily  join  in  repeating  the  creed 
and  saying,  "I  believe  in  the  communion  of 
saints ! " 


PROTESTANTISM.  85 

I  attended  also  the  French  chapel,  under  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Cordes,  whose  acquaintance  I  made, 
and  from  whom  I  learned  many  interesting  facts 
in  regard  to  the  work  which  is  going  on  in  the 
south  of  France.  Here  is  a  most  hopeful  field 
for  efibrt,  for  in  the  French  Catholics  there  is  a 
substratum  of  genuine  piety  which  makes  them 
peculiarly  suscej^tible  to  evangelical  truths. 
The  Protestant  Church  here  is  Presbyterian. 
Part  of  it  is  supported  by  government,  and  thus 
is  obliged  to  submit  to  governmental  interfer- 
ence. In  consequence  of  evils  that  have  thus 
arisen,  especially  in  regard  to  proper  church  dis- 
cipline, a  new  church  has  been  formed,  indepen- 
dent of  the  State,  and  is  supported  by  many 
faithful  and  pious  men,  and  they  are  doing  a 
great  and  good  work.  Even  among  Catholics, 
they  find  most  hopeful  cases  of  conversion. 
Among  the  instances  related  to  me,  was  that  of 
a  poor  woman  who  became  convicted  of  sin- 
She  went  to  her  priest,  and  he  advised  her  to 
make  a  nine  days'  pilgrimage  to  the  church  of 
St.  Fouvriere,  dedicated  to  Mary.  She  attend- 
ed to  his  counsel,   but  found   no  relief.     The 


86  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

burden  was  still  upon  her  heart.  The  priest 
gave  her  some  pictures,  and  told  her  to  study 
them  and  repeat  so  many  prayers.  This  she 
did  faithfully,  but  with  no  better  result. 
Then  the  priest  gave  her  some  images  to  look 
at  and  pray,  and  assured  her  she  would  find 
peace.  She  followed  his  advice,  but  no  peace 
came.  At  length  she  became  ill  and  took  to 
her  bed.  Here  a  Protestant  sister  found  her, 
and  learned  the  cause  of  her  sickness.  She  told 
her  she  had  a  remedy.  She  took  the  Scriptures 
and  read  to  her  the  words  of  Jesus  and  His  pre- 
cious promises.  Peace  came  to  her  heart — she 
recovered  her  health,  and  lived  and  died  a  sin- 
cere believer  in  Christ.  There  is  a  great  deal 
of  interest  manifested  in  Sabbath-schools,  and 
much  is  doino-  for  the  instruction  of  children. 
They  have  also  Bible-classes  for  adults,  and 
there  are  Bible-readers  who  go  from  house  to 
house,  among  the  poor,  opening  to  them  the 
Scriptures,  and  teaching  them  the  way  of  salva- 
tion. The  work  of  the  Protestant  church  lies 
chiefly  among  the  poor  and  the  middle  classes, 
as   the    aristocracy  or   nobility   are    Catholics, 


RELIGIOUS    LIBERTY.  8*7 

But  I  was  happy  to  hear  that  the  Emperor, 
while  himself  a  rigid  papist,  is  desirous  to  have 
full  religious  liberty  in  France.  And  a  case 
was  related  where  he  had  interfered  to  set  at 
liberty  four  persons  who  were  victims  of  priestly 
intolerance,  and  had  been  juit  in  prison  for 
preaching  the  Gospel.  There  are  a  number  of 
Presbyterian  churches  in  and  about  Lyons,  and 
in  France  they  have  enough  to  form  several 
Presbyteries  and  a  Synod. 

Many  earnest  inquiries  were  made  in  regard 
to  the  revival  in  America,  and  a  deep  interest 
was  manifested  in  its  progress.  When  I  turned 
from  Lyons,  I  felt  that  there  were  in  operation 
in  that  city  means  which,  with  the  blessing  of 
God  upon  them,  would  accomplish  immeasura- 
ble good  for  France. 


V. 

L  Y  O  X  S    TO    X  A  P  L  E  S  . 

IT  was  a  pleasant  clay,  in  the  middle  of  June, 
that  we  took  the  cars  at  Lyons  for  Montali- 
mar,  where  we  were  to  spend  the  night. 

The  road  leads  through  a  countiy  of  much  in- 
terest and  beauty,  its  fields  highly  cultivated, 
and  its  towns  and  villages  exceedingly  pic- 
turesque, many  of  them  presenting  abundant 
evidences  of  their  high  antiquity,  and  their 
Roman  origin.  The  waters  of  the  Rhone  are 
flashing  by  us  on  their  way  to  the  sea,  and  the 
valley  through  which  -we  are  passing  presents  a 
succession  of  beauties,  rarely  surpassed.  At 
times  the  river  sweeps  round  the  base  of  some 
majestic  cliff,  crowned  with  the  venerable  ruins 
of  an  ancient  fortress,  built  in  the  era  of  Roman 


M0NTAL1MAK.  89 

greatness  and  power,  and  then  opens  into  a 
broad  and  lovely  plain,  smiling  amid  the  glories 
of  the  harvest.  Occasionally  the  distant  and 
snow-clad  Alps  tower  over  the  intervening  hills 
and  stand  out  in  solemn  grandeur  against  the 
soft  blue  sky,  and  its  rich  drapery  of  clouds 
reflects  the  golden  beams  of  the  setting  sun. 

Just  at  evening  the  train  stops  at  the  old  city 
of  Montalimar,  surrounded  by  ramparts,  abound- 
ing in  queer  and  quaint  old  ruins,  and  chiefly 
devoted  to  the  manufacture  of  morocco  and 
soap  !  A  diminutive  omnibus,  with  a  jolly  fat 
driver,  conveys  us  through  ancient,  odd-looking 
streets,  with  an  indescribable  appearance  of 
having  once  seen  better  days,  into  the  court  of 
an  old  French  inn,  full  of  diligences,  donkeys 
and  fleas — especially  fleas,  and  exceedingly  ac- 
tive ones  at  that.  A  long  and  dingy-looking 
building,  with  flights  of  stone  steps  leading  to 
interminable  corridors  and  halls,  is  the  Post-Inn 
where  we  are  to  spend  the  evening.  Our  lodg- 
ing room,  with  its  fixtures,  its  elaborate  wain- 
scotting,  and  its  venerable  furniture,  is  a  curios- 
ity, and  the  whole  establishment  presents  us 
5* 


90  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

with  a  very  good  idea  of  a  French  inn  of  the 
olden  time.  The  scenery  around  Montalimar 
is  most  brilliant  and  exceedingly  picturesque, 
while  the  appearance  of  the  town  itself  cannot 
fail  to  delight  the  lover  of  the  antique. 

Passing  down  from  this  city,  through  ever- 
varying  beauties  and  splendors, — now  skirting 
the  waters  of  the  Rhone,  or  crossing  one  of  its 
numerous  tributaries ;  then  plunging  through 
dark  tunnels,  built  under  large  clifts  or  head- 
lands; now  coming  in  sight  of  the  ruins  of  an 
ancient  Roman  triumphal  arch,  or  citadel,  or 
aqueduct,  or  palace, — we  at  last  pause  for  a  while 
to  look  at  the  magnificent  building,  standing  in 
full  view  at  the  station  at  Avignon,  and  inter- 
esting as  being  the  ancient  residence  of  the  Pope 
during  the  schism  between  the  churches  of 
France  and  Italy,  when  two  Popes  claimed  the 
Keys.  The  succession  has  never  yet  been  set- 
tled, at  least  to  our  satisfaction,  and  we  shall 
remain  a  Presbyterian  until  this  nice  point  has 
been  satisfactorily  adjusted.  Here  Petrarch  once 
lived  and  saw  his  Laura,  whose  fate  was  mingled 
so  tenderly  and  touchingly  with   his  own. 


NISMES    AND    ARLES.  91 

From  Avignon  our  way  is  still  southward, 
through  a  country  the  character  of  whose 
scenery  now  changes  to  a  rugged  and  sublime 
grandeur  and  wildness.  We  turn  out  of  our 
way  to  visit,  at  Nisines,  a  noble  amphitheatre 
— the  ruins  of  the  Temple  of  Diana,  and  gar- 
dens and  fountain,  which  are  fine  evidences  of 
ancient  art  and  taste.  As  we  pass  onward,  we 
observe  many  women  in  the  quaint  costumes  of 
the  south  of  France,  which  would  be  regarded 
here  as  great  curiosities.  Their  head-dresses  are 
immense,  rising  tier  upon  tier — but  they  have 
very  pretty  faces  under  them,  nevertheless. 
From  Aries,  a  city  renowned  for  its  Roman 
ruins,  its  quaint  costumes,  and  its  beautiful 
women,  we  pass  over  a  vast  unbroken  plain, 
which,  with  its  marshes  and  lagoons,  is  said  to 
resemble  Africa.  Hurrying  by  long  series  of 
ruins,  tunnels,  embankments,  viaducts  and 
bridges,  we  at  length  enter  the  suburbs  of  Mar- 
seilles, and  just  at  dusk  are  whirled  past  beau- 
tiful country  seats,  looking  out  upon  lofty  hills, 
crowned  with  chateaux  and  citadels,  until  we 
stop  at  the  station  in  the  city.    After  the  ordinary 


92  IMPRESSIONS    BROAD. 

detention  we  are  permitted  to  go  to  the  Hotel 
des  Empereurs,  to  experience  there  a  system  of 
extortion  so  thorough  that  it  would  do  credit  to 
any  city  in  Italy.  We  mention  the  name  of  this 
hotel,  so  that  if  any  of  our  friends  ever  visit 
Marseilles  they  may  avoid  it  and  go  to  some 
other,  to  be  fleeced,  probably,  just  as  badly. 

Marseilles  has  a  population  of  about  two 
hundred  thousand.  It  is  beautifully  situated 
upon,  and  surrounded  by,  hills  which  form  a 
noble  landmark  to  the  sailor  upon  the  Mediter- 
ranean. It  has  a  fine  harbor.  As  I  sat  upon 
the  deck  of  the  steamer,  and  watched  the  pro- 
cess of  getting  under  way,  and  saw  our  ship 
shooting  out  from  the  midst  of  a  fleet  of  vessels 
of  all  sizes  and  descriptions,  I  found  sincere 
pleasure  in  looking  out  upon  the  scenes  which 
were  opening  before  me.  Our  ship  was  crowded 
with  officers,  soldiers,  and  priests,  on  their  way 
to  the  seat  of  war,  and  we  met  two  ships  bound 
for  France  and  loaded  with  Austrian  prisoners. 
The  coast,  as  we  sail  towards  Italy,  presents  a 
variety  of  scenes  of  exceeding  beauty.  Four 
days  from  Marseilles,  most  of  which  time  had 


BAY    OF    NAPLES.  93 

been  spent  at  Genoa,  Leghorn  and  Civita  Vecchia, 
we  sighted  the  headlands  of  the  Bay  of  Naples, 
and  as  I  came  upon  deck  and  caught  my  first 
glimpse  of  the  scene,  I  felt  that  description  was 
surpassed,  and  that  the  half  of  its  glories  had  not 
been  told.  The  beautiful  indentation  of  the 
shore  which  forms  the  Bay  of  Naples  commences, 
on  the  North,  at  the  Gape  of  Miseno,  and  sweep- 
ing round,  in  a  most  graceful  curve,  towards  the 
east  and  south,  terminates  at  the  Capo  Delia 
Campanella,  making  a  circuit  of  thirty-five 
miles. 

As  our  ship  rounds  the  northern  headland, 
there  come  rapidly  into  view  beautiful  and  bold 
shores,  covered  with  Italian  villas,  palaces,  gar- 
dens and  convents — until  the  whole  of  this  mag- 
nificent bay  bursts  upon  the  view  and  presents 
a  scene  which  has,  perhaps,  no  equal,  and  which 
no  pen  can  fully  describe.  Almost  in  the  centre 
of  this  glorious  picture,  Vesuvius,  its  head 
wreathed  by  the  dark  clouds  of  smoke  which 
ceaselessly  roll  up  from  its  crater,  rises  majes- 
tically from  a  lovely  valley.  As  the  eye  sweeps 
around  the  beautiful  coast,  it  takes  in  a  series  of 


94  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

villages  and  hamlets,  peeping  out  from  groves 
of  orange,  citron  and  olive-trees,  while  behind 
them  the  distant  hills  rise  in  graceful  outlines, 
and  mountains,  softened  by  distance  and  mel- 
lowed by  the  indescribable  glow  of  an  Italian 
atmosphere,  shut  in  the  lovely  scene. 

Turning  from  this  picture,  to  which  words  do 
no  justice,  we  catch  our  first  view  of  the  city  of 
Naples,  which  lies  upon  a  smaller  indentation 
of  the  bay.  Dashing  by  lines  of  forts  and  castles, 
through  fleets  of  small  vessels,  with  the  peculiar 
oriental  model  of  the  Mediterranean,  which  are 
lying  quietly  at  anchor, — just  as  the  morning 
bugle  is  arousing  the  soldiers  of  the  castle,  and 
the  guns  of  the  ships-of-war  are  thundering  over 
the  waters,  we  come  to  anchor  under  the  range 
of  one  of  the  batteries,  and  opposite  the  Custom- 
house of  Naples.  During  the  long  hours  we 
spend  in  waiting  for  the  return  of  our  passports, 
which  have  been  sent  on  shore  to  the  police,  we 
amuse  ourselves  by  watching  the  small  boats 
which  surround  the  ship,  filled  with  fruit  or 
other  edibles,  or  laden  with  musicians  who  have 
all  the  airs  of  opera  singers,  and  who  have  come 


GETTING    ASHORE.  95 

out  to  pick  up  a  few  pence  for  their  perform- 
ances. At  last  the  officers  of  the  Government 
are  satisfied,  and  we  are  permitted  to  debark. 
Small  boats  now  swarm  about  the  vessel  like 
leeches,  and  the  boatmen  tender  their  services 
most  pertinaciously. 

While  we  are  wondering  how  we  shall  make 
our  way  to  the  shore,  we  hear  a  voice  asking  in 
good  English,  "  Is  there  any  one  here  for  the 
Hotel  des  Etrangers  ?  "  "  Yes,"  we  replied, 
"  It  is  the  very  hotel  to  which  we  have  been 
recommended.  What  is  your  name  ?  "  "  Luigi 
Capelli."  "And  you,"  said  we,  "are  the  very 
man  of  whom  we  heard  at  Lyons."  We  found 
Luigi  the  very  prince  of  guides.  Putting  our- 
selves under  his  care,  we  were  soon  landed,  and 
after  the  usual  formalities  and  extortions  at  the 
Custom-house,  permitted  to  go  to  our  hotel  on 
the  shore  of  the  bay.  Indeed,  it  seems  to  me 
that  the  Government  officials  at  Naples  have 
reached  the  very  acme  of  cheating.  One  wants 
pay  for  lifting  your  trunk ;  another  for  touching 
it  ;  another  for  looking  at  it ;  and  still  another 
must  be  paid  for  letting  it  down.     And  then, 


90  IMPRESSIONS    A.B&OAD. 

hawing  escaped  these,  you  have  to  encounter  a 
swarm  of  beggars  in  all  stages  of  misery,  and 
seemingly  with  every  form  of  disease  They 
abound  everywhere  in  Naples,  and  are  so  active 

and  pertinacious  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
escape  them.  A  blind  beggar,  and  a  lame  one, 
once  ran  a  race  with  oar  carriage,  coming  from 

Pompeii,  and  kept  up  with  us  for  several  blocks. 
The  lame  man  came  out  Becond  best.  Begging 
is  one  of  the  aits  of  Naples,  and  is  carried  to 
a  perfection  of  which  we  can  have  had  no  idea. 
It  is  a  great  relief  to  reach  our  hotel,  and  hear 
the  bright  waters  of  the  Mediterranean  murmur 
at  <»ur  feet  their  ceas  .   —  music. 

Our  first  thought  is  of  Pompeii  and  Hercu- 
laneum.  and  under  the  direction  of  Luigi.  we 
on  on  our  way  thither.  TTe  pass  through 
the  crowded  streets  of  Xaples,  tilled  with  a  busy 
bustling  population  :  and  what  they  have  to  be 
busy  about  no  one  can  tell,  for  there  is  nothing 
to  do.  and  yet  they  contrive  to  be  merry  in  the 
midst  of  misery  and  want,  and  with  no  com- 
merce worth  speaking  of.  manage  to  give  their 
city  the   air  of  a  modern  metropolis  of  trade. 


A    PLEASANT    RIDE.  97 

They  are  a  nation  of  Mark  Tapleys,  and  like  that 
character  in  Dickens'  novel,  they  are  jolly  under 
the  worst  of  circumstances.  Tapley  was  to  have 
upon  his  tomb,  "  Here  lies  a  man  who  would 
have  come  out  strong,  hut  never  had  the  oppor- 
tunity." The  people  of  Naples  have  the  oppor- 
tunity and  they  improve  it !  We  make  our  way 
out  tli  rough  troops  of  lazzaroni  and  beggars  ; 
amid  donkeys  and  Neapolitan  cabriolets ;  past 
companies  of  soldiers ;  processions  of  priests ; 
splendid  churches  and  palaces ;  squalid  and 
wretched  hovels ;  lovely  villas,  surrounded  by 
gardens  laid  out  with  exquisite  taste ;  long  lines 
of  high  stone  walls,  through  which  may  be  occa- 
sionally seen  the  entrance  to  some  fine  mansion  ; 
over  a  road  of  lava,  the  dust  of  which  as  it  rises 
behind  us  is  almost  intolerable, — out  to  the 
beautiful  coast  of  the  bay.  Before  us  Vesuvius, 
with  its  two  peaks,  rises  to  the  height  of  four 
thousand  feet.  The  road  to  Pompeii  leads  by 
the  base  of  the  mountain,  through  a  succession 
of  villages,  which  seem  but  a  continuation  of 
Naples.  As  we  approach  the  modern  town  built 
over  the  ruins   of  Herculaneum,  unmistakable 


98  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

signs  of  the  fearful  ravages  which  the  eruptions 
have  made,  appear  in  the  immense  beds  of  lava 
which  in  many  places  cover  the  earth  to  a  great 
depth.  From  this  point  the  crater  of  the  vol- 
cano is  visible,  and  as  wre  look  a  river  of  molten 
lava  is  pouring  forth  and  threatening  to  destroy 
the  village  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  Here, 
and  at  intervals  along  our  road,  are  statues 
of  priests  and  saints,  their  hands  raised  depre- 
catingly  towards  the  dreaded  volcano. 

On  the  27th  of  August,  A.  D.,  79,  the  first 
recorded  eruption  of  Vesuvius  took  place. 
The  first  recorded  eruption;  for  there  must  have 
been  eruptions  before  that,  the  streets  of  Pom- 
peii being  paved  with  blocks  of  lava,  so  ancient 
that  they  are  worn  in  ruts  by  the  carriage 
wheels,  and  may  now  be  seen  just  as  they 
were  buried  on  that  fatal  day.  The  crater 
poured  forth  a  flood  of  lava,  which  flowed  over 
the  city  of  Herculaneum,  and  buried  it  sud- 
denly and  forever  from  sight.  At  the  same 
time  a  cloud  of  water,  pumice-stone  and  ashes 
arose  from  the  volcano,  and,  floating  over  a  dis- 
tance  of  eight   miles,   fell  upon    Pompeii,   the 


POMPEII.  99 

abode  of  wealth,  luxury,  taste  and  crime.  Of 
the  early  history  of  this  city  little  is  known, 
although  the  discoveries  which  have  been  made 
in  its  exhumed  portions  tell  too  plainly  of  a 
state  of  morals  which  must  have  rivalled  that 
of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and  sufficiently  ex- 
plain why  God  should  have,  in  this  singular 
manner,  blotted  it  from  the  world. 

In  the  year  1748,  a  peasant  who  lived  above 
this  city  of  the  dead,  determined  to  sink  a  well 
in  his  garden,  and  thus  accidentally  discovered 
a  painted  chamber,  filled  with  statues  and  other 
objects  of  art.  Since  then  the  work  of  exhuma- 
tion has  gone  on  at  intervals,  until  about  one- 
fourth  of  the  city  is  uncovered.  And  here,  let 
me  remark,  in  order  to  correct  an  erroneous  im- 
pression which  I  had  before  I  saw  Pompeii,  and 
which  others  may  have  shared  with  me,  that  in 
visiting  it,  you  do  not  go  down  into  a  cellar. 
The  city  was  buried  in  ashes,  and  all  that  is  re- 
quired is  to  cart  them  out,  and  the  streets  ap- 
pear just  as  they  were  eighteen  centuries  ago. 
Indeed  the  whole  is  so  natural,  and  so  like  an 
inhabited  city,  that  you  feel  as  if  you  had  no 


100  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

right  there,  and  that  the  inhabitants  would  re- 
turn in  a  few  moments,  and  call  you  to  an  ac- 
count for  your  intrusion.  With  Herculaneum 
it  is  different.  There  you  do  go  down  into  a 
cellar,  and  have  to  carry  a  lamp  with  you. 
That  city  was  destroyed  by  lava,  and  it  is  a 
work  of  the  greatest  difficulty  to  cut  away  the 
solid  rock.  At  Pompeii,  even,  the  exhumation 
is  not  carried  forward  very  rapidly,  and  it  is 
thought  that  there  are  stores  of  wealth  and 
curiosities  yet  to  be  discovered.  When  some 
great  dignitary  arrives  at  Naples,  the  King  has 
a  new  house  or  two  disinterred,  and  thus  the 
work  proceeds. 

About  three  miles  of  wall,  of  great  solidity 
and  strength,  have  been  traced  out.  It  is  built 
of  immense  slabs  of  lava,  laid  up  without 
cement,  and  having  perfect  joints,  which  are 
sometimes  dovetailed  together.  This  absence 
of  cement  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  Italian 
architecture,  the  stones  of  some  of  the  noblest 
and  most  splendid  mansions,  which  have  stood 
for  ages,  being  thus  laid  up  without  it. 

My   first   visit   was   to   the   ancient   amphi- 


AMPHITHEATRE.  101 

theatre,  which  stands  in  the  south-western  angle 
of  the  city.  It  is  built  in  the  form  of  an  ellipse, 
four  hundred  and  thirty  by  three  hundred  and 
thirty-five  feet.  It  could  hold  about  ten  thou- 
sand persons,  and  has  eighty  or  ninety  vomitories 
or  entrances.  It  is  said  that,  at  the  time  of  the 
eruption,  this  theatre  was  filled  with  a  throng, 
who  readily  made  their  escape  into  the  country. 
Retracing  our  steps,  we  stand  within  the  streets 
of  the  city,  which  are  usually  narrow.  They 
are  paved  with  blocks  of  lava,  which  are  every- 
where worn  into  deep  ruts  by  the  chariot 
wheels.  The  Russ  pavement,  so  much  talked 
about,  was  an  old  idea  in  Pompeii,  as  were  also 
the  raised  stepping-stones,  for  the  convenience 
of  pedestrians  wishing  to  cross  the  streets  dur- 
ing a  shower.  Often  there  is  a  narrow  foot- 
path of  mosaic  or  stucco. 

As  the  ashes  which  buried  Pompeii  are  re- 
moved, the  ancient  appearance  of  the  city  is  at 
once  restored,  so  that  one  feels  that  he  is  look- 
ing upon  the  same  scenes  from  which  the  in- 
habitants fled  in  terror,  nearly  1,800  years  ago. 
The  walls  of  many  of  the  houses  are  nearly  en- 


102  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

tire,  showing  every  room  and  garden  as  they 
appeared  when  the  city  was  destroyed.  It  is 
impossible  to  describe  the  emotions  with  which 
one  passes  through  these  silent  and  deserted 
streets,  houses,  and  temples.  The  very  man- 
ners and  customs  of  the  people  may  be  distinct- 
ly read,  and  we  seem  to  be  introduced  into  their 
homes  and  see  how  they  lived,  and  what  were 
their  pleasures  and  business.  Here  are  streets 
of  stores,  in  which  merchants  trafficked  and  grew 
rich.  Here  are  wine- shops,  the  bottles  still  un- 
broken, the  name  of  the  owner  over  the  door, 
the  marble-topped  tables  (no  new  idea  at  our 
restaurants)  at  which  his  customers  sat,  and  the 
very  marks  of  the  wine-glasses  still  upon  them. 
Here  are  private  houses  with  beautiful  gardens 
and  fountains,  kitchens,  dining-rooms,  and  sleep- 
ing-apartments. Here  are  floors  of  rich  mosaic, 
as  perfect  as  when  it  was  first  laid.  Here  are 
frescoes,  and  marble  statuary,  and  exquisite 
carvings,  showing  a  degree  of  art  and  skill  un- 
surpassed at  the  present  day.  Here  are  the 
temples  where  the  people  worshipped,  the  idols 
to  which  they  sacrificed,  and  the  altars  on  which 


TRAGIC    THEATRE.  103 

they  left  their  offerings.  Often  the  name  of  the 
owner  is  upon  his  door-post,  and  we  can  see 
where  Sallust  lived,  and  where  the  wealthy  Dio- 
mede  and  his  family  had  their  home  and  their 
graves. 

Immediately  behind  the  barracks,  which  are 
tasteful  and  convenient  accommodations  for  the 
soldiers  of  Pompeii,  stands  a  Grand  Tragic  Thea- 
tre, built  in  a  semi-circular  form,  upon  the  slope 
of  a  hill,  open  to  the  air,  and  facing  the  sea. 
Every  part  of  it  is  lined  with  Parian  marble, 
and  although  most  of  the  decorations  were  re- 
moved, we  can  still  form  an  idea  of  its  ancient 
splendor.  It  could  seat  about  5,000  persons, 
and  many  of  the  seats  still  retain  their  numbers 
and  divisions,  showing  that  modern  janitors  and 
ushers  have  no  new  ideas  in  this  respect.  The 
ladies  had  seats  separated  from  the  rest  of  the 
audience,  and  (significant  fact!)  immediately  be- 
hind them  was  the  police  officer. 

Most  of  the  shops  of  Pompeii  were  of  a  single 
story,  open  to  the  street,  and  closed  with  a  slid- 
ing shutter.  In  front  was  a  counter  of  stone 
or  brick,  elevated  by  three  steps,  the  better  to 


104  1MPEZ-  51         S  A]  AD. 

display  the  goods.  Bakers'  -hop-  had  - 
oven?  at  one  end.  Drinking  saloons  were  com- 
mon. A  goat  indicated  a  milk-  A  picture 
of  two  men  carrying  a  large  bottle,  -  _  _  - 
where  wine  w  -  -  Id.  Two  men  righting  was 
the  sign  of  a  gladiatorial  school — unless  they 
had  primary  elections  in  those  days,  and  taught 
the  ;.  f  g  verning  the  people  by  rowdies  and 
shoulder-hitter-.  The  BchooJ-maste]  a  gn  was 
a  man  whipping  a  boy,  v.  3  trussed  up 
ujx»n  another  boy's  back,  shewing  that  for  Young 
Poinpeii  they  had  severer  discipline  than  moral 
suasion. 

The  dw      .._-'.      ses    :  Pompeii  were  m  - 
upon  <>r  -     that  one  is  a  tyr**  of  all.  ex- 

cepting  the    additions  which   taste  or  wealth 
-   ggest     The  ground-floor  is  the  princi- 
pal part  of  the  house,     Y  11  enter  through  an 
ssum     __   "-way  into  a  hollow  square,  where 
areu-  :  untains,  statuaiy.  and  Mosaic  | 

inent-  Aj  und  this  court  are  the  apartments 
of  the  family.  There  is  the  boudoir  of  the  lady, 
the  library  of  the  husband,  a  cozy  dining-room, 
anl  there,  under  fanciful  columns,   where  the 


D10MED.  105 

vines  crept  upon  trellis- work,  is  the  table  around 
which  the  family  gathered  to  take  their  ease. 

That  the  Pompeians  were  fond  of  bathing,  is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  most  perfect  arrange- 
ments are  everywhere  met  with  for  supplying 
the  city  with  water.  Splendid  marble  bath- 
tubs, vast  bathing-houses,  substantial  aqueducts, 
pipes  underlying  the  city,  with  faucets,  <fec,  like 
our  Croton  or  Ridgewood,  indicate  the  degree  of 
comfort  enjoyed  in  this  respect. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  houses  in  the  city 
lies  just  out  of  the  Herculaneum  gate.  It  is  the 
villa  of  Diomed,  one  of  the  famous  characters  in 
Bulwer's  novel  of  "The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii." 
His  house  is  three  stories  high,  and  contains 
magnificent  suites  of  rooms.  In  the  cellar  were 
found  the  skeletons  of  the  family,  seventeen  in 
number.  Near  this  is  a  house  called  the  villa 
of  Cicero,  on  one  of  the  lower  stones  of  which  is 
written,  "  Sea  and  fresh  water  baths,  by  Marcus 
Crassus  Frugius."  Some  of  the  houses  you  feel 
disinclined  to  enter,  for  it  seems  as  if  the  family 
were  only  absent  on  a  visit,  and  a  figure  of  a 
dog  seems  ready  to  fly  at  you,  with  "  Cave  canem" 
0 


106  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

(beware  of  the  dog)  written  upon  the  Mosaic 
pavement.  But  you  are  reassured  at  the  house 
of  the  vestals  by  the  word  "  Salve"  (welcome). 

That  the  arts  had  attained  great  perfection 
in  Pompeii,  is  evident.  The  Museum  at  Naples, 
devoted  to  Pompeian  relics,  contains  clothing, 
bread,  fruits,  lamps,  statues  in  bronze  and  mar- 
ble, dining-sets,  paintings,  sculptures,  <tc.  The 
sculptures  abundantly  testify  what  life  and  mor- 
als in  Pompeii  were,  and  one  may  easily  guess 
why  it  was  selected  to  share  the  fate  of  Sodom. 
The  decorations  of  the  houses,  even  the  jewelry 
which  women  wore,  the  painting  and  sculpture 
now  hidden  from  the  public  eye,  are  said  to 
evince  a  degree  of  vice,  sensuality,  and  obsceni- 
ty that  rivals  the  cities  of  the  plains.  They  evi- 
dently worked  iniquity  with  greediness,  and 
realized  the  portrait  of  heathenism  given  by  the 
Apostle  Paul  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Romans. 
Everything  about  the  ruins  tells  of  the  sudden- 
ness with  which  the  calamity  came  upon  them. 
There  stands  a  block  of  marble,  half  sculptured, 
and  the  tools  thrown  hastily  down  around  it; 
here  is  money  in  the  till,  and  there  is  freshly 


THE   OVERTHROW.  107 

plastered  mortar,  with  the  down  stroke  of  the 
trowel  only  half  completed. 

Near  one  of  the  theatres  is  the  temple  of  Isis, 
with  its  private  staircase,  by  which  the  priest 
entered  the  image  and  worked  the  oracle.  The 
winking  and  weeping  Madonnas  of  the  present 
age  are  no  new  ideas.  At  one  of  the  gates  a 
Roman  soldier  was  found,  who  remained  at  his 
post,  careless  of  threatened  danger,  faithful  to 
the  last.  It  requires  no  great  stretch  of  imagi- 
nation to  repeople  these  silent  streets;  to  recall 
the  hour  when  the  theatre  resounded  with  the 
applause  of  thousands ;  when  the  temples  ech- 
oed the  sounds  of  worship ;  when  the  shops  were 
filled  with  merry  customers;  when  that  court 
of  justice  was  the  scene  of  many  an  eloquent 
appeal;  when  the  thoroughfares  were  brilliant 
with  processions,  and  alive  with  bustling  citi- 
zens; when  these  houses  were  the  abodes  of 
wealth,  taste,  and  most  fearful  crime. 

But  in  an  hour  this  splendor  vanished.  Yonder 
mountain  quaked,  and  its  terrible  throes  and 
dreadful  groans  gave  appalling  evidences  of  the 
coming   calamity.     Then    flashed   up  the  long 


108  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

pent-up  fires.  The  molten  lava,  as  a  deep,  rapid 
river,  poured  forth  its  desolating  streams  upon 
Herculaneum.  A  cloud,  dark  and  ominous, 
moved  towards  Pompeii,  and  fell,  and  for  1800 
years  it  has  laid  in  its  tomb — a  lost  and  buried 
city. 

Retracing  our  steps  towards  Naples,  we  pause 
at  Herculaneum,  and,  following  a  guide,  descend 
to  the  theatre.  It  is  strange,  in  that  deep  and 
dark  solitude,  where  everything  carries  you  back 
to  the  past,  to  hear  the  tread  of  active  life  about 
you,  and  to  ascend  from  the  graves  of  the  dead 
city  to  the  realities  of  the  present.  You  have 
been  earned  back  over  a  period  of  1800  years. 
It  is  difficult  to  realize  that  you  are  living  in  the 
nineteenth  century.  You  carry  with  you  those 
strange  thoughts  to  your  evening  meditation, 
and  when  lulled  to  slumber  by  the  soft  music 
of  the  sea,  are  still  dreaming  of  Diomed,  Sal- 
lust,  and  Cicero.  You  wake  to  see  around  you 
a  city  full  of  striking  contrasts. 

Narrow  streets,  up  which  a  donkey  can 
scarcely  climb,  run  out  from  broad  and  well- 
paved  thoroughfares.     Three  hundred  churches, 


CONTRASTS.  109 

in  a  population  of  365,000,  filled  with  statuary 
of  wondrous  beauty,  and  superbly  decorated, 
stand  in  the  midst  of  filthy  places,  and  are  sur- 
rounded with  squalid  beggars. 

The  lazzaroni  sleeps  in  his  basket,  or  in  the 
streets,  or  under  the  shadow  of  a  palace,  and 
eats  his  macaroni  at  the  market-place,  and  dozes 
away  his  life  in  inaction. 

The  peasant  mounts  his  donkey,  or  crowds 
into  the  rickety  cabriolet,  while  the  noble  dashes 
by  in  his  carriage.  The  cottage  and  the  palace 
— the  people  and  the  priest — the  oppressed 
and  the  oppressor,  are  the  terrible  contrasts  of 
Naples.  You  are  pointed  to  relics  of  supersti- 
tion of  the  most  puerile  character.  You  see 
crowds  of  ignorant  and  idle  people  amusing 
themselves  with  puppet  shows,  or  listening  to 
the  trash  of  a  strolling  singer  or  improvisitoire. 
But  all  the  noble,  earnest  and  honorable  in- 
stincts of  humanity  are  crushed  out  by  a  bigoted 
priesthood,  and  a  cruel  and  tyrannical  govern- 
ment that  is  wholly  at  its  bidding.  Yet  in 
these  men,  now  oppressed  and  down-trodden, 
the  government  will  at  length  find  the  elements 


110  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

of  revolution,  which  will  burst  forth  with  a 
destructive  power  from  which  there  will  be  no 
escape. 

I  was  credibly  informed,  that  in  the  Neapoli- 
tan kingdom  there  were  one  hundred  thousand 
families,  most  of  whom  were  the  respectable 
portion  of  society,  who  were  deprived  of  the 
privileges  of  a  liberal  education,  from  suspicions 
of  their  political  principles.  The  object  of  the 
Government  was,  to  prevent  the  spread  of  he- 
retical opinions  by  cutting  off  the  children  from 
the  power  which  education  might  give  them  to 
extend  and  perpetuate  the  ideas  received  from 
their  fathers.  When  such  remedies  as  these  are 
resorted  to,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  what 
will  be  the  end  of  a  government  already  hated 
and  despised,  or  of  the  besotted  priesthood, 
who  use  it  as  the  instrument  of  their  own  am- 
bition. 


VI. 

ROME. 

A  CROWD  of  passengers,  affording  the  usual 
contrasts  of  a  Mediterranean  steamer,  stood 
upon  the  deck  of  the  Visuvio,  awaiting,  for  four 
weary  hours,  the  signal  for  her  departure.  Our 
passports,  with  four  visas,  for  which  we  had 
paid  the  usual  extortionate  prices,  had  been 
brought  on  board  by  an  officer  of  the  Govern- 
ment, who  called  off  our  names,  pronounc- 
ing them  with  so  thorough  an  Italian  accent, 
that  we  were  in  doubt  whether  we  were  really 
the  Signor  and  Signora  intended.  However, 
we  stepped  up  at  a  venture,  and  were  permitted 
to  remain  on  board.  At  length  everything  was 
ready,  and  as  the  ship  shot  out  from  her  moor- 
ings, we  stood  upon  the  deck  and  gazed  on 
the  scene  before  us,  recalling  the  past  few  days 


112  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

like  some  exciting,  but  beautiful  dream.  As 
we  sailed  up  the  bay,  and  evening  deepened 
around  us  her  sombre  shadows,  Vesuvius  was 
lighted  up  with  its  volcanic  fires;  and  when 
the  city  of  Naples  faded  from  our  view,  like 
some  beautiful  vision,  the  burning  mountain 
was  still  our  landmark,  pointing  out  to  us 
where  lie  the  buried  cities  of  other  ages,  and 
where,  perchance,  before  another  year,  the  earth 
shall  open  to  swallow  up  the  cities  of  the  pres- 
ent age. 

There  is  a  charm  about  Naples  which  holds 
one  spell-bound,  and  the  scholar  walks  under 
its  full  power.  Yonder  is  the  Sybil's  Cave, 
whose  romantic  beauty  Virgil  has  rendered  im- 
mortal in  his  song.  And  there  is  Lake  Avernus, 
upon  whose  gloomy  shore  the  ghosts  of  the  de- 
parted were  said  to  wander;  and,  above  all, 
there  is  the  spot  where  Paul  landed  on  his  way 
to  Rome,  and  we  are  soon  to  be  amid  scenes 
upon  which  he  looked,  and  among  which  he 
was  an  actor. 

A  night  is  spent  in  dreams  of  the  past  and 
the  future,  and  morning  finds  us  at  Civita  Vec- 


CIVITA    VECCHIA.  113 

chia,  waiting  for  permission  to  go  on  shore,  and 
when  on  shore,  impatiently  anxious  to  escape 
from  one  of  the  most  infamous  dens  of  Italy. 

Every  conceivable  arrangement  is  made  at 
this  place  for  cheating  travellers  on  their  way 
to  Rome.  The  ship  does  not  land  you,  but 
leaves  you  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  boat- 
men. A  sailor  must  be  paid  for  putting  your 
baggage  in  the  boat;  the  steward  and  stew- 
ardess must  be  paid  for  neglecting  you  during 
the  whole  voyage ;  men  must  be  paid  for  car- 
rying your  baggage  to  the  Custom-house ;  officers 
must  be  feed  for  inspecting  it ;  one  for  setting 
it  out  of  doors,  and  another  for  putting  it  on 
the  omnibus,  which  demands  an  exorbitant 
price  for  conveying  you  to  the  depot,  where 
your  baggage  is  set  down  at  the  foot  of  a  flight 
of  stairs,  up  which  a  porter  must  be  paid  for 
carrying  it,  and  another  for  putting  it  on  the 
cars.  It  has  become  a  proverb  that  there  is  more 
cheating  done  and  more  lies  told  at  Civita  Vec- 
chia  than  in  all  the  rest  of  Italy ;  and  we  only 
wonder  how  so  many  persons  are  induced  to  go 
to  Rome,  when  they  have  to  pass  through  this 
6* 


114  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

purgatory  of  extortion.  At  length,  after  eight 
hours  spent  in  this  nest  of  thieves  and  pick- 
pockets, we  are  permitted  to  depart.  The  rail- 
road, which  has  been  opened  but  a  few  months, 
skirts  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  and 
passes  through  a  country  which,  with  proper 
enterprise,  might  be  made  a  beautiful  garden. 
When  former  Popes  were  applied  to  for  per- 
mission to  build  this  road,  they  declined  on 
the  ground  that  then  the  diligence  drivers — 
some  half  a  dozen  vagabonds — would  have  noth- 
ing to  do ;  and  so  for  many  years  travellers 
spent  from  eight  to  ten  hours  in  journeying 
forty  miles.  The  present  Pope,  however,  be- 
came convinced,  by  some  miracle,  that  it  would 
not  ruin  the  Church  to  have  a  railway  to  Rome, 
and  so  it  was  finished  some  two  or  three  months 
before  our  visit.  At  last  we  came  in  sight  of 
Rome,  and  we  landed  at  the  station  just  as  the 
rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  gilding  the  dome 
of  St.  Peter's. 

Rome !  The  Eternal  City !  I  cannot  de- 
scribe the  emotions  which  stirred  within  me,  as 
I  first  stood  within  those  walls,  and  felt  that 


ROME    AT    LENGTH.  115 

the  dreams  of  my  youth  were  realized.  We 
found  excellent  accommodations  at  the  Hotel 
de  l'Angleterre,  not  far  from  the  famous  Corso, 
the  Broadway  of  Rome.  Entering  our  chamber, 
we  sat  down  to  try  and  realize  that  we  were  in 
the  midst  of  a  city  whose  histoiy  goes  back 
for  more  than  seven  hundred  years  before  Christ, 
and  which,  both  as  the  metropolis  of  the  Roman 
Empire  and  the  centre  of  the  Papal  Church, 
has  been  more  connected  with  the  fate  of  na- 
tions than  any  other. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  feast  of  Corpus 
Christi,  and  torch-light  processions,  with  ban- 
ners and  music,  and  long  lines  of  priests  and 
monks,  were  passing  beneath  our  window,  and 
giving  us  palpable  assurance  that  we  were  in  a 
Catholic  city. 

Roma  la  Grandiosa.  Let  us  place  ourselves 
under  the  care  of  Stephano,  a  most  faithful 
guide,  recommended  to  us  by  Luigi,  at  Naples, 
(we  shall  iind  him  every  morning,  with  a  car- 
riage, to  begin  our  day's  explorations,)  and  go 
forth,  to  pass  over  the  grave  of  Rome:s  former 
glory,  and  to  gaze  upon  the  monuments  and 


116  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

mausoleums  of  the  mighty  dead.  Rome  lies 
mostly  upon  the  slope  of  three  or  four  of  the 
in<>>t  westerly  of  the  seven  hills,  and  it'  we 
stand  upon  the  tower,  on  the  summit  of  the 
Capitoline  hill,  we  can  take  in  the  general  fea- 
tures of  the  city  at  a  glance.  Just  south  of  us 
are  the  ruins  of  the  Forum,  some  fifteen  or 
twenty  feet  below  the  present  elevation  of 
Rome,  but  from  which  the  rubbish  has  been 
removed,  so  that  we  may  see  the  pavement 
which  Caesar,  Cicero  and  the  other  celebrated 
men  of  their  age  once  trod,  and  the  lofty  columns 
against  which,  perhaps,  they  once  leaned.  Near 
the  Forum  is  the  Arch  of  St-ptimu-  Severus, 
erected  in  the  year  205,  by  the  Roman  Senate, 
in  his  honor.  Xot  far  away  >tands  the  Arch  of 
Titus,  erected  to  commemorate  the  return  of  his 
army  from  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and  the 
most  beautiful  of  all  the  arches  of  Rome.  It  is 
built  of  white  marble,  and  is  ornamented  with 
bas-reliefs  of  the  priests  bearing  the  vessels  of 
the  temple,  and  walking  as  captors  in  the  train 
of  the  victorious  army.  Looking  still  to  the 
south,,  we  see  the  Arch  of  Constantine  spanning 


A    PANORAMA.  117 

the  Via  Appia,  covered  with  wondrous  illustra- 
tions of  the  victories  of  the  nation  under  the 
dominion  of  the  Emperor.  As  the  eye  sweeps 
around,  it  takes  in  the  blackened  wall  of  the 
Coliseum,  and  then  the  Palatine  hill,  upon 
which  stand  the  mighty  ruins  of  the  Palace  of 
the  Caesars.  The  walls  of  the  city  were  built 
A.  D.  271,  and  are  almost  thirteen  miles  in  cir- 
cuit. The  material  of  which  they  were  con- 
structed is  the  ancient  brick,  mixed  with  stone. 
Following  the  outline  of  the  wall,  until  we  look 
westward,  we  pass  a  series  of  ruins,  domes, 
towers,  arches,  monuments,  palaces,  and  churches, 
until  at  last  we  pause  to  admire  the  wondrous 
magnificence  of  St.  Peter's,  seated  upon  the 
Vatican  hill,  and  surrounded  by  the  vast  ranges 
of  buildings  which  make  up  the  palace  of  the 
Pope.  Behind  are  distant  ranges  of  hills,  and 
the  peaks  of  the  Volscian  mountains;  and  to 
the  south  are  the  vast  undulations  of  the  Cani- 
pagna,  a  plain  ninety  miles  long  by  twenty- 
seven  broad ;  while,  nestling  among  the  cloud- 
capped  hills,  are  beautiful  villages,  towns,  and 
ancient  ruins,  and   scenes   of  historic   interest, 


118  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

which  cany  you  back  to  ages  almost  lost  in  the 
shadows  of  time. 

Our  first  visit  was  to  the  Church,  or  Basilica, 
of  St.  John  Lateran,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing 
a  procession  in  which  the  Pope  was  to  take 
part.  Next  to  St.  Peter's,  this  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  interesting  church  in  Eome,  because  it  is 
here  that  the  Pope  is  crowned,  and  one  of  the 
first  ceremonies  he  performs  is  that  of  taking 
possession  of  this  venerable  church,  dating  back 
to  the  fourth  century.  Just  opposite  is  the 
Babtistry,  built  by  Constantine,  in  which  tradi- 
tion says  that  he  was  baptized,  and  where 
stands  an  urn  of  green  basalt,  from  which,  for 
many  ages,  the  ceremony  of  baptism  has  been 
performed.  Taking  our  position  in  front  of  the 
mao-uificent  building,  we  awaited  the  arrival  of 
the  Pope,  and  watched  the  cardinals  as  they 
drove  up.  Each  cardinal  has  two  carriages  for 
himself  and  his  attendants.  The  horses  are  fine 
animals,  of  the  ancient  Roman  breed,  and  their 
trappings  are  covered  with  silver  and  gold.  To 
each  carriage  were  a  driver  and  three  footmen, 
wearing   short    clothes,  white    silk    stockings, 


THE    POPE.  119 

knee  and  shoe-buckles,  and  cocked  hats  pro- 
fusely trimmed  with  silver  lace,  with  which 
their  vests  and  coats  were  also  lined.  The 
cardinals,  as  they  stepped  out  in  their  rustling 
silks,  looked,  with  all  their  wealth  and  splen- 
dor, more  like  princes  than  like  officers  of  a 
Church  professing  to  imitate  Him  who  was 
meek  and  lowly,  and  who  said,  "  My  Kingdom 
is  not  of  this  world ; "  and  their  whole  appear- 
ance was  in  striking  contrast  to  the  beggars 
who  might  be  seen  around. 

But  yonder,  escorted  by  files  of  soldiery,  and 
preceded  by  a  full  band  of  music,  comes  the 
Pope.  His  carriage,  drawn  by  six  coal-black 
horses,  is  a  perfect  "wonder."  The  eye  is 
dazzled  with  the  sheen  of  scarlet  and  gold,  out- 
shining the  trappings  of  any  other  monarch  on 
earth,  as  he  passes,  by  a  private  gate,  into  the 
church,  where,  already,  a  vast  crowd  are  gath- 
ered, kept  in  check  by  lines  of  soldiery  and  the 
ever-present  Swiss  Guard,  the  chosen  and  fa- 
vored attendants  of  the  Pope,  and  the  detesta- 
tion of  the  people.  The  church  itself  is  a  noble 
edifice,  glittering  with  gold  and  precious  stones, 


120  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

and  adorned  with  paintings  and  statuary  of  rare 
beauty.  Down  the  vast  aisles,  the  rich  peals  of 
the  organ  swelling  gloriously  through  the  mag- 
nificent arches,  advances  the  procession  of  the 
Pope,  who  comes  towards  the  high  altar,  seated 
upon  a  chair,  which  is  borne  upon  the  shoulders 
of  six  or  eight  men,  accompanied  by  priests  hav- 
ing crucifixes  and  other  insignia,  and  passing  by 
ranks  of  kneeling  soldiers  and  people,  upon 
whom  he  graciously  bestows  his  blessing,  by 
making  in  the  air  the  sign  of  the  cross.  Poor 
man !  He  is  dreadfully  tossed  about  while 
being  thus  carried  along,  and  he  must  feel  very 
uncomfortable.  He  himself  says  that  it  makes 
him  sea-sick,  and  it  certainly  makes  us  sick  to 
see  him.  The  ceremonies  which  followed  were 
of  the  most  imposing  of  the  Catholic  ritual,  and 
we  turned  away  from  them  with  sorrow,  that 
men  should  be  able  to  palm  upon  the  people 
such  absurd  mummeries  as  a  part  of  religious 
worship.  Xor  was  this  feeling  diminished  when 
we  were  led  through  the  cloisters  and  the 
museum  connected  with  this  church.  Guided 
by  a  priest,  we  were    shown  the    table  upon 


RELICS.  121 

which  the  Last  Supper  was  laid.  It  was  en- 
closed in  a  glass  case,  and  has,  somehow,  won- 
derfully survived  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem. 
We  thought  that  it  was  burnt  up,  with  many 
other  relics,  at  that  time,  but  it  seems  not,  for  it 
is  at  this  church,  properly  identified  and  on  ex- 
hibition. There,  also,  is  a  column  of  Pilate's 
house,  and  a  pillar  which  was  split  in  two  when 
the  veil  of  the  temple  was  rent.  There  is  also 
a  marble  slab — the  top  of  a  table — with  a  hole 
in  it  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter,  and 
this  is  the  story  about  it :  There  was  once  a 
priest,  who  doubted  that  the  holy  wafer  did 
really  contain  the  body  of  Christ,  and,  while 
holding  it  over  the  table,  he  let  it  fall.  A 
miracle  ensued.  The  wafer  was  so  heavy  that 
it  fell  quite  through  this  marble  slab,  and  made 
the  hole  we  see,  and  then  stuck  against  the  leg 
of  the  table.  Of  course,  the  doubting  priest 
was  convinced — how  could  he  be  otherwise? 
There,  too,  are  the  stairs  up  which  Christ 
walked  on  His  way  to  Pilate's  house — and  how 
these  were  preserved  from  the  destruction  of 
Jerusalem   also    puzzles  us.     If   you   wish    to 


■wfri  these  steps  you.  are  requirec 

your  knee>  :  ur  faith,  in  their  identity  was 

_    •:-*--      -   - i " 

:  ""  ^&c  jiiiilift  lii  by 

fmtJC  rejection  upon  which  - 
the  lirst   seed-  _-   Reformation,      in.  this 

•  _  e  marble  upon  which 

Leaving  the  ehur 

?c     -     -  umi.  by  the  vener^i     - 

we    approach.    th»- 

shadows    carry  us   backward  for  ag 
-----  -  it     It 

-  '-  uiit  in  the  reign  of  Vespasian  and  Titos, 
A.  I       _--'       -  -         _ 

:--  are  a  the  arena*  and 

nljMg.fciiiiiH.il,.  and  for  one  hundred  days  games 
held  in  honor  •  : 

ct  was  the  tkeata       I    \    ■ 
spectacles,  and  cruel  and  bitter  pexseoa- 
a  ace  it  ceased  t« 


THE   COLISEUMJ.  123 

for  such  spectacles,  its  stones  have  been  taken 
for  building  materials — many  of  the  noblest 
palaces  and  other  edifices  of  Rome  being  erected, 
in  part,  from  its  ruins — and  yet  it  seems  to 
have  lost  none  of  its  vast  proportions,  although 
it  is  said  that  fully  two-thirds  of  its  original 
material  are  gone.  Its  form  is  an  ellipse,  584 
by  468  feet;  the  height  of  the  outer  wall  is  157 
feet ;  the  area  covered  by  it  is  nearly  six  acres, 
and  100,000  people  could  sit  in  the  vast  tiers  of 
seats,  and  look  down  upon  the  scenes  below. 
The  sight  is  overwhelming,  as  you  stand  upon 
the  very  spot  where  many  a  martyr  suffered, 
look  up  at  the  vast  arches  which  rise  above 
you,  and  to  the  walls  blackened  by  the  storms 
of  ages,  and  think  what  tales  they  might  tell 
were  they  endowed  with  speech.  There  is  the 
very  arch  through  which  the  emperors  entered ; 
and  the  vaulted  passages  leading  to  the  cells 
in  which  the  wild  beasts  were  confined,  and 
from  which,  when  maddened  with  hunger,  they 
were  let  into  the  arena  upon  helpless  men,  and  ten- 
der and  gentle  women,  whose  only  crime  was  a 
profession  of  the  religion  of  Christ.     But  these 


124  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

scenes  have  passed,  a  cross  is  reared  upon  the 
spot,  flowers  are  growing  there,  and  around  the 
arena  are  placed  the  statues,  usual  in  Catholic 
churches,  representing  the  passion  of  our  Lord. 
Just  under  the  shadows  of  the  Coliseum  stands 
a  vast  ruin,  s  shapeless  mass,  amid  which  is  a 
garden,  green  with  herbage,  and  beautiful  with 
flowers  and  fruits.  It  stands  upon  the  Palatine 
Hill,  and  is  about  a  mile  and  a  half  in  circuit 
It  is  the  ancient  palace  of  the  Caesars,  built  by 
Augustus  upon  the  site  of  the  houses  of  Cicero, 
Hortensius,  Catiline  and  Claudius.  Caligula 
enlarged  it ;  Xero  added  to  it,  and  Titus  im- 
proved and  beautified  it.  Here  and  there,  amid 
the  mass  of  arches,  walls  and  columns,  may  be 
found  a  room,  whose  size  and  form  indicate 
the  former  glory  of  the  palace :  but  over  it  all 
the  ivy  climbs,  and  amid  its  ruins  the  owl  hoots 
and  the  satyr  dances. 

Those  who  have  made  the  ruins  of  Rome 
their  study,  divide  them  into  three  eras : 

The  first  is  the  Kingly  period,  dating  back  to 
752 — 510,  B.  C.  Of  the  ruins  of  this  period 
the  most  ancient  is  the  Cloaca  Maxima,  a  vast 


MAMERTINE   PRISON.  125 

sewer  built  not  long  after  the  foundation  of  the 
city,  and  being  now  about  2,500  years  old.  A 
fine  arch  of  this  sewer  is  seen  near  the  river, 
with  a  spring  of  water  just  by  it,  at  which  the 
women  wash  their  clothes.  The  Mamertine 
prison,  to  which  allusions  may  be  found  in  the 
works  of  Sallust,  also  belongs  to  this  period. 
A  monk  conducts  us  down  a  flight  of  twenty- 
eight  steps  into  a  dark  subterranean  chamber, 
beneath  which  is  a  small  cell  built  of  huge 
stones,  which  are  held  together  by  iron  clamps. 
The  entrance  was  formerly  an  aperture  in  the 
roof  through  which  prisoners  were  let  down. 
In  this  cell  Jugurtha  was  starved  to  death ;  and 
here,  by  the  order  of  Cicero,  the  accomplices  of 
Catiline  were  strangled.  Here,  probably,  Paul 
was  confined,  for  this  was  the  State  prison,  and 
he  was  a  State  prisoner.  Here,  too,  the  church 
tradition  says  that  Peter  was  imprisoned — 
though  there  is  no  scriptural  ground  for  sup- 
posing that  Peter  was  ever  at  Rome — and  the 
priests  point  out  the  very  pillar  to  which  he 
was  chained,  and  the  spring  of  water  which 
burst  up  when  he  wished  to  baptize  the  jailer 


126  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

and  his  family.  There  is  even  a  print  of  his 
face  in  the  solid  rock,  when  Peter  fell  back 
against  the  wall,  and  left  upon  it  his  exact  por- 
trait— a  new  phase  of  lithographic  art !  From 
this  cell  Peter  escaped,  the  monks  tell  you,  and 
ran  to  a  church,  where  you  find  a  monk  ready 
to  accept  a  fee  for  showing  you  the  spot  where 
the  Apostle  met  the  Saviour,  who  left  the  print 
of  his  feet  in  a  piece  of  stone,  while  telling  him 
that  he  must  go  back  and  be  crucified.  The 
priests  rather  spoil  the  romance  of  the  affair, 
however,  by  telling  you  that  this  is  not  the 
"  real  original "  stone,  as  they  say  in  New  York, 
but  only  a  copy,  and  you  are  rather  inclined  to 
believe,  that  those  who  can  carve  out  so  perfect 
a  representation  of  the  feet,  might  also  have 
cut  out  Peter's  profile. 

Of  the  second  period,  the  Consular,  there  are 
less  interesting  relics  ;  but  there  are  some,  how- 
ever, with  which  all  are  doubtless  familiar.  The 
Appian  Way  is  one  of  these,  a  road  about  four- 
teen feet  broad,  paved  with  smooth  square 
stones,  which  are  still  in  perfect  order,  after 
having   been  travelled  over  for  two   thousand 


THE    PANTHEON.  127 

years.  This  was  the  great  southern  military 
road.  By  it  Paul  must  have  travelled,  and  from 
this  point  he  must  have  caught  his  first  view  of 
Rome,  and  looked  upon  the  many  temples, 
towers,  palaces  and  columns,  the  ruins  of  which 
still  stand,  like  monuments  of  the  greatness  of 
the  city. 

The  period  of  the  Roman  Empire,  extending 
from  30  B.  C.  to  476  A.  C,  is  richest  in  the 
memorials  now  existing  in  Rome.  During  the 
reign  of  Augustus,  the  wealth,  splendor  and 
power  of  the  city  exceeded  any  former  period ; 
and  palaces,  theatres,  and  public  edifices  and 
works,  whose  ruins  still  remain,  were  built,  in 
numbers  and  grandeur  surpassing  anything 
ever  before  attempted.  His  greatest  work  was 
the  Pantheon,  erected  B.  C.  26,  and  it  is  still 
in  wonderful  preservation.  Its  proportions  are 
exceedingly  beautiful ;  and  in  spite  of  all  the 
ravages  of  time — in  spite  of  the  fierce  assaults 
of  the  Gothic  nations,  which  have  left  their 
dreadful  traces  all  over  Rome,  the  Pantheon 
stands,  to-day,  perfect  and  entire.  Its  portico, 
which  has  been    pronounced    faultless  by  the 


128  IMPRESSIONS   ABROAD. 

noblest  architects,  is  composed  of  sixteen  Corin- 
thian pillars  of  granite,  with  capitals  of  marble, 
and  is  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  long  by  forty- 
four  deep. 

Passing  through  the  bronze  doors  of  the  main 
building,  affording  an  opening  of  thirty-nine  by 
nineteen  feet,  we  enter  the  vast  solitude  within. 
The  building  is  142  feet  in  diameter,  and  is 
lighted  by  an  opening  in  the  dome,  143  feet 
from  the  pavement.  The  walls  are  20  feet  in 
thickness,  and  the  pavement  is  of  porphyry  and 
other  rich  stones. 

The  Pantheon  has  changed  from  a  heathen 
temple  to  a  Christian  church ;  the  niches,  which 
once  held  the  statues  of  the  gods,  are  now  filled 
with  pictures  and  images  of  saints,  and  services 
are  constantly  performed  there  by  the  priests  of 
Rome. 

But  we  cannot  linger  here,  for  every  stone 
has  its  story,  and  we  wander  amid  the  terrible 
ruins  of  this  stricken  city,  as  in  a  dream.  Here 
is  the  spot  upon  which  was  held  the  interview 
between  Coriolanus  and  his  mother,  when  she 
pleaded  with  him  to  spare  the  city  in  which  he 


ANTIQUITIES.  129 

first  saw  the  light.  Yonder  is  the  tomb  of 
Pompey,  and  in  that  palace  is  his  statue,  of 
which  Shakspeare  writes: 

"  E'en  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue, 
Which  all  the  while  ran  blood, 
Great  Ctesar  fell." 

And  antiquarians  say  that  this  is  the  very  statue 
referred  to,  and  that  it  was  removed  to  this  pal- 
ace from  the  place  where  the  assassination  oc- 
curred. Here  is  the  tomb  of  the  Horatii  and 
the  Curiatii,  and  in  yonder  field  they  fought  and 
died.  That  magnificent  mausoleum,  on  the  Ap- 
pian  Way,  was  erected  more  than  nineteen 
hundred  years  ago,  in  memory  of  Cecilia  Me- 
tella,  the  wife  of  Crassus,  and  it  is  still  in  per- 
fect preservation.  Passing  by  the  great  Circus, 
where  chariot  races  took  place,  and  in  which 
300,000  people  could  find  room,  let  us  return 
to  the  city,  and  visit  the  Roman  Forum,  built 
upon  the  slope  and  at  the  foot  of  the  Capitoline 
Hill.  Here  is  the  modern  capitol,  erected  upon 
the  ruins  of  the  ancient.  At  the  top  of  the  stairs 
are  two  colossal  statues  of  Castor  and  Pollux, 
standing  by  the  side  of  their  horses.  Near  by 
7 


130  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

is  one  of  Constantine,  found  in  his  baths,  and  in 
the  centre  of  this  piazza  stands  the  splendid 
bronze  statue  of  Marcus  Aurelius.  Michael 
Angelo  was  a  great  admirer  of  it,  and  by  his 
directions  it  was  removed  to  this  place  from  the 
Lateran  church,  where,  at  the  coronation  of  Ri- 
enzi,  the  Last  of  the  Tribunes,  it  was  made  to 
do  duty  as  a  fountain,  wine  spouting  from  one 
nostril  and  water  from  the  other. 

Before  we  enter  the  museum  of  the  Capitol, 
let  us  turn  aside,  for  a  moment,  to  look  at  the 
Tarpeian  Rock,  so  famous  in  the  early  history  of 
Rome — 

"Tarpeian,  fittest  goal  of  Treason's  race! 
The  promontory  whence  the  traitor's  leap 
Cured  all  ambition ! '' 

It  is  surrounded  by  buildings,  and  upon  it  is  a 
garden,  from  which  I  plucked  a  flower  as  a  sou- 
venir. At  its  base  the  soil  has  collected  so  as 
to  detract  considerably  from  its  height. 

But  let  us  enter  the  museum  of  the  Capitol. 
It  is  filled  with  the  relics  of  ancient  Rome,  and 
presents  to  us  some  of  the  master-pieces  of  her 
greatest  artists  and  sculptors.     Here  stands  a 


THE    CAPITOL.  131 

colossal  statue  of  Julius  Caesar,  and  there  are 
busts  of  Cicero,  Brutus,  Pornpey,  Cato,  and  all 
the  orators,  statesmen,  and  poets,  of  the  golden 
age  of  Rome.  Here  are  the  creations  of  Phidias 
and  Praxiteles,  and  other  artists  of  that  day, 
whose  works  indicate  a  degree  of  refinement 
which  shows  that  age  to  have  been  anything 
but  an  era  of  barbarism.  There  is  that  world- 
renowned  statue  of  the  Dying  Gladiator,  which, 
once  seen,  can  never  be  forgotten.  Byron  has 
painted  this  wondrous  work  of  art  in  verses 
which  almost  rival  in  beauty  the  statue  itself : 

"  I  see  before  mo  the  Gladiator  lie : 
He  leans  upon  his  hand ;  his  manly  brow 
Consents  to  Death,  but  conquers  agony  ; 
And  his  droop'd  head  sinks  gradually  low, 
And  through  his  side  the  last  drops,  ebbing  slow 
From  the  red  gash,  fall  heavy,  one  by  ono, 
Like  the  first  of  a  thunder-shower  ;  and  now 
The  arena  swims  around  him  :  he  is  gone, 

Ere  ceased  the  inhuman  shout  which  hailed  the  wretch  who  won. 
He  heard  it,  but  he  heeded  not ;  his  eyes 
Were  with  his  heart,  and  that  was  far  away. 
He  recked  not  of  the  life  he  lost,  nor  prize  ; 
But  where  his  rude  hut  by  the  Danube  lay, 
There  were  his  young  barbarians  all  at  play  ; 
There  was  their  Dacian  mother ;  he,  their  sire, 
Butchered  to  make  a  Roman  holiday." 

Childe  Harold. 

In  this  museum  are  the  sculptures  of  which 


132  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Pliny  spoke  with  so  much  admiration;  the 
Venus  of  the  Capitol;  the  bronze  wolves  and 
ducks  found  in  some  ruins  near  the  Tarpeian 
Rock;  the  famous  statue  of  Antinous,  dis- 
covered in  Hadrian's  villa;  and  splendid  fres- 
coes and  paintings,  representing  the  early  scenes 
of  Roman  history. 

Leaving  these  scenes,  we  pause  to  look  at  the 
famous  church  built  upon  the  ruins  of  the  Tem- 
ple of  Jupiter  Capitolanus,  dating  back  to  the 
fourth  century.  It  is  filled  with  paintings  and 
statuary,  but  its  chief  attraction  is  a  Doll,  said 
to  have  been  made  by  a  pilgrim  from  a  tree 
which  grew  upon  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and 
painted  by  St.  Luke  while  the  maker  was  asleep. 
This  doll  is  called  the  Bambino ;  it  is  honored 
as  one  of  the  chief  miracle-workers  of  Rome, 
and  its  shrine  is  decorated  with  many  costly 
offerings.  Strange  stories  are  told  of  its  power, 
especially  in  healing  the  maladies  of  children. 
Captivated  by  these  tales,  so  the  story  goes,  a 
Roman  lady  determined  to  have  the  doll  always 
in  her  house,  so  that  her  children  might  remain 
in  perfect  health.     Pretending  that  one  of  them 


THE    BAMBINO.  138 

was  ill,  she  had  the  doll  brought  to  her  house, 
and  caused  a  fac  simile  of  it  to  be  made — 
size,  foiTU,  dress,  everything  was  exactly  imi- 
tated. The  counterfeit  she  sent  back  to  this 
church,  where  it  was  received  with  appropriate 
ceremonies,  while  the  lady  retained  the  genuine 
Bambino,  and  went  to  sleep  happy  in  the  belief 
that  she  was  to  have  no  more  sickness  among 
her  children.  In  the  middle  of  the  night,  the 
priests  at  the  church  were  aroused  by  a  knock- 
ing at  the  door,  and  opening,  they  found  their 
little  doll,  the  genuine  Bambino,  who  had  re- 
turned to  her  temple  and  her  faithful  servants. 
A  wonderful  image  is  this!  It  has  a  carriage 
in  which  to  take  its  airings,  and  on  certain  days 
little  children  act  sacred  dramas  in  its  chapel. 
This  is  another  of  the  "  lying  wonders  of  the 
man  of  sin,"  and  we  shall  notice  some  others, 
quite  as  absurd  and  silly,  by  and  by.  We  may 
visit  the  church  of  St.  Maria  Maggiore,  and  see 
a  few  rough  planks,  said  to  be  the  cradle  of  the 
infant  Saviour ;  or  the  church  of  St.  Sebastian, 
and  find  the  original  marble  upon  which  are  the 
prints  of  His  feet ! 


134  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

But,  leaving  these,  let  us  ascend  to  the  Pin- 
cian  Hill,  which  Napoleon  made  into  a  splen- 
did drive,  and  see  the  nobility  of  Rome  as  they 
come  out  for  an  afternoon  ride,  and  then,  walk- 
ing up  the  Corso  and  the  streets  diverging  from 
it,  and  gazing  upon  the  fountains,  statues, 
churches,  temples,  palaces,  convents,  and  monas- 
teries, which  rise  on  every  hand,  we  shall  form 
some  just  conception  of  Rome,  and  acknowledge 
the  propriety  with  which  the  Italians  call  it 
uLa  Grandiosa?  The  suburbs  of  Rome,  be- 
sides the  numerous  ruins  you  meet  at  every 
step,  contain  some  beautiful  villas.  One  of  the 
most  perfect  of  these  gems  of  domestic  splen- 
dor, the  villa  Albano,  is  nestling  in  a  grove 
of  exquisite  beauty,  and  is  filled  with  rich 
paintings  and  statuary.  It  is  a  grateful  relief 
to  turn  in  thither  and  wander  through  those 
splendid  halls  and  corridors,  or  saunter  through 
grounds  laid  out  with  most  exquisite  taste,  lis- 
tening to  the  songs  of  the  birds  and  the  play  of 
the  fountains,  scenting  the  sweet  breath  of  the 
flowers  and  the  shrubbery,  and  sheltering  our- 
selves from  the  fierce  beams  of  the  summer's 


VILLA    ALBANO.  135 

sun  beneath  the  green,  wide-spreading  branches 
of  innumerable  trees.  How  marked  the  con- 
trast to  the  streets  of  the  city,  where  everything 
tells  us  of  greatness  and  glory  fast  passing  away 
forever.  Yet,  even  in  this  quiet  retreat,  poverty 
stares  us  in  the  face,  for  at  the  gate  is  a  group 
of  wretched  beggars,  who  piteonsly  call  upon 
us  for  alms.  Alas !  the  spell  of  the  destroyer  is 
upon  this  once  mighty  city,  and  its  destiny  is 
clearly  foretold  in  that  Word  which  has  written 
its  history,  and  which  points  to  its  overthrow, 
when  the  rich  men  and  the  great  men  shall  cry — 
Babylon  is  fallen,  and  has  become  the  habita- 
tion of  devils,  the  abode  of  every  foul  spirit,  and 
the  cage  of  every  unclean  and  hateful  bird. 


VII. 

ROME    AND    ITS    CHURCHES. 

ROME  is  a  city  of  churches.  And  as  day 
after  day  introduced  me  to  some  new  won- 
der, I  began  to  realize  the  description  given  of 
it  among  the  apocalyptic  visions  of  John  at 
Patmos.  Rome,  the  "Mistress  of  the  World," 
in  her  greatness  and  glory  as  a  heathen  city, 
was  but  a  type  of  what  she  was  to  be  as  the 
seat  of  Papal  ]3ower  and  authority.  Pier  splen- 
did temples,  built  for  the  worship  of  false  gods, 
have  crumbled  to  dust,  only  to  be  replaced  by 
temples  as  costly  in  which  the  magnificent  cere- 
monies of  the  Pagan  ritual  may  be  reproduced 
in  the  Christian  worship. 

To  a  population  of  one  hundred  and  eighty 
thousand  souls,  there  are  three  hundred  and 
sixty-four  churches,  of  which  seven  are  Basili- 


THE    CHURCH    AT    ROME.  137 

cas,  capable  of  containing  from  five  to  fifty 
thousand  persons.  Connected  with  the  churches 
and  other  religious  establishments,  are  four 
thousand  five  hundred  priests  and  monks,  and 
nineteen  hundred  nuns,  giving  a  priest  to  about 
every  forty,  and  a  nun  to  about  every  one 
thousand  persons.  During  the  first  three  cen- 
turies of  the  Christian  era,  the  church  which 
had  been  established  at  Rome  (probably  by 
some  of  those  persons  who  were  at  Jerusalem 
during  the  Pentecostal  season,  who  are  spoken 
of  as  "  strangers  of  Rome,"  and  who  were  after- 
wards confirmed  in  the  faith  and  order  of  the 
gospel  by  the  Apostle  Paul)  was  called  upon  to 
endure  fierce  and  bloody  persecutions.  When 
Paul  came  to  this  great  city  as  the  Apostle  to  the 
Gentiles,  Nero  was  the  Emperor,  under  whom 
commenced  those  bloody  persecutions  which 
continued  through  three  centuries,  and  only 
ceased  when  Constantine  became  a  convert  to 
the  gospel,  and  gave  to  the  Christian  religion 
his  imperial  protection.  During  all  this  long 
period,  Christianity  could  rear  but  few  monu- 
ments of  its  glory  and  power,  and  hence  it  is 
7* 


138  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

that  the  crypts  of  ancient  churches  are  seldom, 
if  ever,  found  to  date  back  beyond  the  fourth 
century,  at  which  time  the  Church  had  begun 
to  feel  the  growing  power  of  the  Papacy,  and 
to  experience  the  truth  that  the  smile  of  the 
Caesars  was  the  frown  of  Christ.  Already,  at 
that  time,  there  had  begun  to  be  introduced  one 
and  another  of  those  forms  and  ceremonies 
copied  from  the  Pagan  ritual,  to  meet  the  de- 
mands for  imposing  and  dramatic  forms  which 
might  appeal  to  the  senses  and  teach  truth  by 
signs  and  symbols.  When,  therefore,  the  re- 
searches of  the  antiquarians  of  Rome  bring  to 
light,  as  they  occasionally  do,  some  Christian 
temple,  with  general  features  which  now  ap- 
pear in  the  Papal  churches,  it  but  proves  what 
all  ecclesiastical  historians  admit,  that  as  early 
as  the  fourth  century,  the  evil  of  which  the 
Apostles  warned  the  churches  had  become  ap- 
parent, and  that  the  Mystery  of  Iniquity  was 
even  then  working,  to  develop  itself  more  fully 
during  the  seventh  century,  in  the  recognition 
of  the  Cardinal  Bishop  of  Rome  as  the  Sov- 
ereign Pontiff,  and,  during  the  eighth  century, 


POPERY.  139 

in  the  crowning  this  Pontiff  a  temporal  Prince, 
thus  uniting  the  Keys  of  the  Church  with  the 
Sword  of  the  State,  and  so  consummating  that 
unhallowed  union  which  must  everywhere,  and 
in  all  times,  work  out  evil,  and  only  evil,  both 
to  the  Church  and  the  State.  For  a  political 
church,  whether  Catholic  or  Protestant,  must 
necessarily  be  more  or  less  corrupt — and  Rome 
is  no  exception  to  this  rule. 

However,  I  do  not  propose  to  argue  upon 
this  subject,  but  to  tell  you  what  I  saw  of  the 
splendid  temples,  which  began  to  rise  after  the 
cessation  of  the  persecutions,  and  which,  in 
grandeur  and  magnificence,  find  their  culmina- 
tion in  that  miracle  of  architectural  splendor, 
St.  Peter's. 

Leaving  our  hotel  and  turning  into  the  Corso, 
we  ride  leisurely  through  that  great  artery  of 
the  city,  purposely  seeking  a  circuitous  route 
that  we  may  see  some  of  the  strange  contrasts 
which  everywhere  appear.  As  we  leave  the 
favorite  resort  of  the  fashionables  of  Rome,  we 
catch  a  view  of  the  shattered  and  blackened 
walls   of  the  Coliseum ;  and   then,  turning   to- 


140  IMPRESS  IONS    ABROAD. 

wards  the  Tiber,  we  enter  the  Jews'  Quarter, 
a  sad  and  dark  corner  of  the  city,  reeking  with 
filth  and  disease.  Passino-  onward,  the  scene  is 
strange  and  novel.  Here  and  there  women  are 
at  work,  surrounded  by  half-clad  children,  who 
seem  to  have  forgotten  the  use  of  water.  Di- 
minutive donkeys,  loaded  with  panniers  filled 
with  fruits  and  vegetables,  are  standing  in  the 
market-places.  Smiths  are  busy  at  their  sooty 
forges,  or  itinerant  tinkers  are  seated  before  the 
doors  of  the  houses,  patching  up  dilapidated 
pans  and  kettles.  Girls  with  flowers,  which  they 
are  arranging  in  bouquets,  stand  at  temporary 
tables  which  they  have  set  up  at  the  comers  of 
the  streets.  Slipshod  Israelites,  with  packs  of 
old  clothes,  or  small  boxes  of  jewelry,  shuffle 
by.  Wretched  beggars,  diseased  and  starving, 
stretch  out  their  withered  hands  and  ask  for 
alms.  Families,  clad  in  the  wild  and  fantastic 
garb  of  their  native  hills,  who  have  come  to  sit 
as  models  for  artists,  are  gathered  upon  the  door- 
steps. Ever  and  anon  there  passes  a  procession 
of  priests,  with  the  symbols  of  their  worship  ; 
or   of   nuns,  with    their   quaint  costumes   and 


SIGHTS    OF    ROME.  141 

head-dresses,  irresistibly  making  you  smile  at 
their  grotesque  appearance.  Here  you  meet 
with  youthful  students  of  some  Roman  college, 
wearing  their  peculiar  cassock  and  cap.  There 
a  band  of  Roman  soldiers  file  by  you,  or  a  gen- 
darme turns  up  from  a  by-street,  giving  you  an 
idea  of  the  constant  surveillance  under  which 
the  city  is  kept  by  the  Government. 

Not  far  from  the  Jews1  Quarter  stand  the 
ruins  of  the  Theatre  of  Pompey,  and  hard  by 
is  the  spot  where  Caesar  met  his  fate.  Crossing 
the  magnificent  bridge  of  St.  Angelo,  between 
two  rows  of  splendid  statues,  we  see  before  us 
the  ancient  mausoleum  of  Hadrian,  and  the 
castle  of  St.  Angelo.  Ascending,  through  di- 
lapidated streets,  towards  the  Vatican  Hill,  we 
at  length  reach  the  grand  Piazza  in  front  of  St. 
Peter's,  and  looking  up  at  that  mountain  of 
hewn  stone,  we  feel  (as  all  do)  a  sense  of  dis- 
appointment at  the  size  and  general  appearance 
of  that  world-renowned  structure,  a  feeling* 
which,  as  you  soon  discover,  is  the  result  of  lack 
of  power  in  your  mind  to  adapt  itself  at  once 
to  so  stupendous  a  work  of  art. 


142  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

It  is  approached  from  the  east  through  a 
piazza,  bounded  by  semi-circular  colonnades, 
in  the  centre  of  which  stands  the  mate  of 
the  Column  of  Luxor,  which  we  saw  in  the 
Place  de  Concorde  at  Paris.  On  either  side  of 
this  are  beautiful  fountains,  whose  waters  are 
playing  night  and  clay.  The  colonnades  are 
themselves  well  worthy  attention,  and  enclose 
an  area  whose  diameter,  in  its  widest  point,  is 
seven  hundred  and  eighty-seven  feet.  The 
width  of  these  colonnades  is  fifty-five  feet ;  they 
are  supported  by  four  rows  of  columns,  forty- 
eight  feet  high,  and  stand  sufficiently  wide 
apart  to  admit  between  them  two  carriages 
abreast;  the  whole  number  of  columns  and 
pilasters  is  three  hundred  and  forty-eight ;  and 
upon  the  entablatures  stand  one  hundred  and 
ninety-two  statues  of  saints,  each  twelve  feet 
high.  Passing  through  the  piazza,  you  approach 
a  flight  of  steps,  at  the  bottom  of  which  are 
colossal  figures  of  Peter  and  Paul  ;  and  here  the 
colonnades  terminate  in  two  galleries,  each  three 
hundred  and  sixty  feet  long,  leading  to  the  ves- 
tibule  of  the   church.     This  flight   of  steps  is 


st.  peter's.  143 

one  of  the  first  objects  which  serve  to  convince 
you  of  the  vastness  of  St.  Peter's,  for  it  seems 
to  stand  just  at  hand,  and  you  imagine  that  its 
distance  from  the  base  of  the  ascent  up  which 
you  are  toiling,  is  not  much  greater  than  that 
which  you  have  encountered  in  visiting  other 
churches.  Yet,  as  you  advance,  the  church  seems 
to  be  no  nearer,  and  when  you  at  length  reach 
its  door  you  find  that  you  have  had  to  walk 
about  three  hundred  feet  from  the  first  step, 
and  that  since  your  carriage  entered  the  piazza, 
you  have  passed  over  one-fourth  of  a  mile. 
The  steps  are  four  hundred  feet  broad.  The 
fa§ade  of  the  church  is  three  hundred  and 
seventy-nine  feet  long  by  one  hundred  feet 
high,  ornamented  with  eight  Corinthian  columns 
ninety-two  feet  in  length,  and  nearly  nine  feet 
in  diameter.  Thirteen  colossal  statues  of  Christ 
and  the  Apostles,  eighteen  feet  high,  stand  upon 
the  attic,  and,  diminished  by  distance,  look  only 
the  height  of  ordinary  men. 

Passing  throuo-h  the  first  entrance,  we  stand 
in  the  magnificent  vestibule  which  is  worthy  of 
the  glorious  temple  to  which    it   leads.     It  is 


144  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

468  feet  long,  QQ  high,  and  50  feet  wide.  At 
either  end,  seeming  in  the  distance  only  the  size 
of  life,  are  immense  statues  of  Constantine  and 
Charlemagne.  Even  here  the  mind  is  over- 
whelmed  with  the  vastness  of  this  portico,  and 
with  a  foreshadowing  of  what  is  to  burst  upon 
it  when  one  of  those  curtains  is  drawn  aside, 
and  we  look  upon  the  church  itself.  It  is  im- 
possible to  convey  to  your  minds  the  emotions 
I  felt  when  I  beheld  that  wonderful  scene,  and 
which  daily  and  hourly  increased  within  me  as 
I  returned  again  and  again  from  gazing  upon  one 
and  another  of  the  churches  of  Rome,  beautiful 
and  glorious  as  many  of  them  are,  but  only 
seeming  to  freshen  the  wonderful  sublimity  of 
this  mighty  temple.  Even  Byron,  whose  heart 
seldom  was  stirred  by  religious  emotions,  seem- 
ed to  find  here  a  subject  suited  to  his  genius  ; 
and  though  his  thoughts  are  wrapped  up  in  the 
gorgeous  drapery  of  a  poet's  utterance,  he  has 
given  to  us  a  most  correct  idea  of  St.  Peter's. 

"  But  thou,  of  temples  old  and  altars  new, 
Standest  alone,  with  nothing  like  to  thee ; 
Worthiest  of  God,  the  Holy,  and  the  True. 
Majesty. 


STATISTICAL.  145 

Power,  Glory,  Strength,  and  Beauty,  all  are  aisled 

In  this  eternal  ark  of  worship  undefiled. 

Enter :  its  grandeur  overwhelms  thee  not ; 

And  why  ?     It  is  not  lessened,  but  thy  mind. 

Expanded  by  the  genius  of  the  spot, 

Has  grown  colossal,  and  can  only  find 

A  fit  abode  wherein  appear  enshrined 

The  hopes  of  immortality  ;  and  thou 

Shalt  one  day,  if  found  worthy,  so  defined, 

See  thy  God  face  to  face,  as  thou  dost,  now, 

His  Holiest  of  Holies,  nor  be  blasted  by  His  brow. 

Thou  movest— but  increasing  with  the  advance, 

Like  climbing  some  great  Alp,  which  still  doth  rise, 

Deceived  by  its  gigantic  elegance ; 

Vastness  which  grows, — but  grows  to  harmonize — 

All  musical  in  its  immensities  ; 

Rich  marbles,— richer  paintings,— shrines  where  flames 

The  lamp  of  Gold, — and  haughty  Dome  which  vies 

In  air  with  Earth's  chief  structure,  though  their  frame 

Sits  in  the  firm-set  ground— and  this  the  clouds  must  claim." 

The  church  of  St.  Peter  stands  over  an  an- 
cient crypt,  built  in  the  time  of  Constantine,  and 
affirmed  by  tradition  to  contain  the  bones  of 
St.  Peter.  The  present  edifice  was  begun  in 
1450;  the  work  was  afterwards  committed  to 
Michael  Angelo,  under  whose  direction  the 
church  was  completed  as  far  as  the  dome  in 
1563;  and  thus  the  work  was  carried  on  until, 
in  350  years  from  the  time  when  the  design  was 
drawn,  the  structure  was  completed,  at  an  ex- 
pense of  $50,000,000,  besides  the  further  sum 


146  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

of  $1,000,000  spent  upon  the  bells,  the  sacristy, 
«fcc,  and  $31,000  a  year  expended  in  repairs. 
The  church  is  built  in  the  form  of  a  Latin  cross, 
the  centre  of  which  is  over  the  crypt  and  the 
tomb  of  St.  Peter.  The  general  dimensions  are 
as  follows:  length  of  the  nave,  613  feet ;  of  the 
transept  and  cross,  446  feet;  the  height  of  the 
ceiling,  152  feet;  diameter  of  the  dome,  195  feet 
to  the  outer  walls,  and  139  feet  in  its  inte- 
rior ;  height  from  the  pavement  to  the  base  of 
the  lantern,  405  feet;  to  the  top  of  the  cross, 
448  feet.  50,000  people  can  easily  be  accom- 
modated in  this  vast  edifice,  and  yet  leave  abun- 
dance of  room  for  the  priests  and  ordinary  wor- 
shippers . 

Time  would  fail  us  even  to  enumerate  the 
statues  of  colossal  proportions,  and  the  magnifi- 
cent mosaics  which  adorn  the  walls.  And  it 
were  as  impossible  to  describe  the  grandeur  of 
the  scene,  which  grows  upon  you  with  every 
successive  visit,  and  at  last,  in  its  overwhelming 
power  and  sublimity,  takes  complete  possession 
of  all  your  senses.  You  look  across  the  im- 
mense space,  and  see  men  and  women  seeming 


GRANDEUR.  147 

like  children.  You  approach  the  cherubs  which 
hang  out  from  the  walls,  holding  between  them 
the  basin  of  Holy  Water,  and.  they  grow  to  the 
size  of  giants,  whose  wrists  you  cannot  span. 
You  look  up  at  the  statues  which  appear  only 
the  size  of  life,  and  are  told  that  they  are  over 
20  feet  in  height.  You  gaze  up  at  the  letters 
in  the  dome,  and  the  pen  of  St.  John  in  the 
splendid  mosaic,  and  are  assured  that  they  are 
six  or  seven  feet  in  length.  Everything  is  co- 
lossal, and  the  eye  cannot,  at  one  glance,  take 
in  the  full  idea  of  the  grandeur  of  this  interior. 
You  look  down  through  that  long  vista,  and 
see  massive  columns,  arches,  piers,  beautiful 
chapels,  splendid  statues,  and  wondrous  mo- 
saics, which  make  you  forget  all  you  have  be- 
fore seen  of  architectural  beauty.  As  you  ad- 
vance towards  the  great  dome,  you  observe  the 
Baldacchino,  or  canopy,  which  stands  over  the 
relics  of  St.  Peter,  and  which  is  95  feet  high, 
and  supported  by  four  spiral  columns. 

A  flight  of  stairs  leads  down  to  a  shrine,  be- 
fore which  is  a  kneeling  statue  of  the  Pope,  who 
is  represented  as  praying  before  the  tomb  of  the 


148  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Apostle.  Ninety  lamps,  burning  night  and 
day,  are  hung  around  the  enclosure.  Back  of 
this  stands  the  vast  tribune,  in  which  hangs  the 
chair  of  St.  Peter,  with  a  bronze  covering.  Dur- 
ing the  occupancy  of  Rome  by  the  French,  some 
one  climbed  up  to  the  chair,  and  found  upon 
it  the  name  of  an  Indian  Prince,  to  whom  it 
probably  once  belonged.  As  we  approach  the 
High  Altar,  we  see  the  bronze  statue  of  St. 
Peter,  with  its  great  toe  nearly  worn  off  by 
kisses,  and  which,  upon  certain  days,  is  dressed 
in  the  robes  and  tiara  of  the  Pope.  The  four 
columns  which  sustain  the  dome  are  250  feet  in 
circuit,  having  each  two  niches,  one  above  the 
other.  In  the  lower  recesses  are  statues  of 
saints,  about  16  feet  high,  and  in  the  upper  are 
various  sacred  relics :  a  handkerchief  with  the 
likeness  of  the  Saviour  upon  it ;  a  piece  of  the 
True  Cross;  the  head  of  St.  Andrew,  and  many 
others.  The  walls,  chapels,  and  niches  are  dec- 
orated, not  with  pictures,  but  with  mosaics  of 
exquisite  beauty,  having  all  the  delicacy,  finish, 
and  expression  of  the  finest  paintings,  and  illus- 
trative of  such  scenes  as  the  Crucifixion  of  St. 


DECORATIONS.  149 

Peter,  the  Incredulity  of  St.  Thomas,  &c.  Se- 
pulchral monuments  are  scattered  over  the  build- 
ing, commemorative  of  Popes,  sovereigns,  and 
others,  who  have  been  especially  distinguished 
for  devotion  to  the  Catholic  Church.  One  of 
the  most  beautiful  groups  is  that  by  Michael 
Angelo,  representing  the  Mother  of  Christ,  with 
the  body  of  the  Saviour  upon  her  knees.  It 
decorates  one  of  the  chapels  in  the  north  aisle 
of  the  church.  Beneath  the  church  is  the  cele- 
brated crypt,  from  which  ladies  are  excluded, 
except  upon  certain  fast  days,  in  which  are 
ancient  chapels  and  cells,  containing  sepulchral 
urns  of  former  Popes,  and  other  historical  char- 
acters. 

But  if  we  would  obtain  a  perfect  idea  of  St. 
Peter's,  we  must  ascend  to  the  roof  and  the 
dome.  We  wind  up  a  broad,  spiral  staircase  of 
solid  stone,  and  emerge  upon  the  roof,  200  feet 
from  the  pavement,  where  we  seem  to  be  enter- 
ing upon  the  well-paved  street  of  a  city.  Here 
it  is  we  begin  to  realize  the  immense  proportions 
of  St.  Peter's.  The  domes  for  lisrhtino;  the 
chapels  below,  and  the  buildings  erected  for  the 


150  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

accommodation  of  the  workmen,  constitute  a 
very  respectable  street,  or  rather  two  streets,  of 
which  the  centre  of  the  roof  is  the  dividing  line. 
Flights  of  stairs,  between  the  inner  and  outer 
shell  of  the  dome,  conduct  us  to  its  summit, 
whence  we  mount  by  a  ladder  into  the  ball, 
which,  although  eight  feet  in  diameter,  looks 
like  a  speck  from  the  street,  450  feet  below. 
As  we  descend,  we  pause  to  look  down  from  the 
vast  galleries  upon  the  pavement  beneath,  and 
the  crowds  of  men  and  women  appear  but  as 
the  moving  figures  of  a  puppet  show. 

The  services  and  ceremonies  of  St.  Peter's  are 
in  keeping  with  its  architectural  character. 
Here  we  witnessed  the  procession  of  the  Pope, 
as,  borne  upon  the  shoulders  of  his  men,  and 
followed  by  an  immense  crowd  of  cardinals  and 
priests,  he  passed  through  files  of  armed  soldiers 
and  a  vast  throng  of  spectators,  which,  though 
numbered  by  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands, 
yet  left  space  enough  unoccupied  to  have  ac- 
commodated as  many  more.  Just  at  the  close 
of  day  I  attended  Vespers,  at  which  the  Pope 
was  present,  and   heard    such    music  swelling 


THE    VATICAN.  151 

through  the  vast  arches  of  this  temple  as  seldom 
falls  upon  the  ears  of  man,  this  side  Heaven. 

Adjoining  St.  Peter's  is  the  Vatican,  or 
Palace  of  the  Pope.  It  contains  over  four  thou- 
sand five  hundred  rooms,  and  exceeds  in  inter- 
est and  splendor  all  the  other  palaces  of  the 
world.  Its  length  is  about  twelve  hundred  and 
its  breadth  about  seven  hundred  and  sixty- 
seven  feet.  Its  various  stories  are  reached  by- 
eight  grand  staircases,  and  two  hundred  smaller 
ones.  It  would  be  useless  to  attempt  any  mi- 
nute or  detailed  description  of  this  vast  edifice ; 
yet  a  few  hints  may  not  be  inappropriate.  As- 
cending towards  it  through  the  left  portico 
of  the  church,  you  enter  through  the  grand 
staircase,  which  leads  to  the  Sixtine  Chapel,  a 
lofty  hall,  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  by  forty- 
live  feet,  decorated  with  splendid  paintings,  the 
most  wonderful  of  which  is  the  fresco  of  the 
Last  Judgment,  by  Michael  Angelo.  It  repre- 
sents Christ,  surrounded  by  His  saints  and 
angels,  on  the  one  hand,  while  beneath  Him  are 
the  lost  spirits  descending  to  their  eternal  home. 
Among  these  is  the  figure  of  a  cardinal,  who 


lo'l  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

objected  to  the  picture,  on  account  of  the  nudity 
of  the  figures,  and  whom  Angelo  painted  in 
hell,  with  asses1  ears.  AVhen  the  cardinal  com- 
plained to  the  Pope,  his  answer  was.  that 
although  his  Holiness  could  deliver  him  from 
purgatory,  his  power  did  not  extend  to  the 
lower  hell.  Passing  from  this  chapel,  we  pro- 
ceed through  an  almost  endless  series  of  rooms, 
museums,  and  libraries,  devoted  to  the  architec- 
tural and  artistic  riches  of  the  world.  A  vast 
corridor,  seven  hundred  feet  long,  is  filled  with 
inscriptions,  sarcophagi,  funeral  altars,  etc..  and 
contains  the  finest  collection  of  the  kind  in  the 
world.  Another  series  of  halls  has  seven  hun- 
dred specimens  of  ancient  sculptures,  where  we 
behold  the  images  of  the  deities  and  heroes  of 
ancient  Rome,  many  of  them  as  fresh  as  when 
they  cam^  from  the  hands  of  the  artist.  Other 
museums  are  filled  with  vast  collections  of 
books  and  manuscripts,  of  ancient  art,  of  natu- 
ral history,  and  of  science.  The  Etruscan  and 
the  Egyptian  museums  are  alone  worth  the 
study  of  months :  while  galleries  of  sculpture 
contain   some  of  the  noblest  works  of  ancient 


THE    ILLUMINATION.  153 

and  modern  art.  Here  stands  Apollo,  the 
very  personification  of  manly  beauty,  watching 
the  flight  of  the  arrow  which  has  just  left  his 
hand.  Elsewhere  we  came  upon  the  group  of 
Laocoon,  on  which  Virgil  looked,  and  from 
which  he  drew  inspiration.  We  wandered  for 
hours  amid  these  varied  collections,  lost  in 
wonder  at  their  extent  and  magnificence,  and 
gaining  some  new  ideas  of  the  wealth  which 
the  nations  have  poured  in  upon  this  great 
city. 

Turning    from    this   palace,  which  holds   us 
with    a    wonderful    fascination,  we   take    our 
places,  just  as  the   sun  is  setting  beneath  the 
softened  glories   of  an    Italian  sky,  to   witness 
the   splendid   spectacle  of  the  illumination  of 
St.   Peter's.      Five   hundred  men   are  hangine: 
four  thousand  lanterns  upon  the  columns,  arches 
and  windows  of  the  vast  edifice,  which,  in  the 
growing  darkness,  shine  with  increasing  bright- 
ness.    Just  as  the  bell  strikes  the  quarter-past 
nine,  one  thousand  more   torches   are  lighted, 
ami   the    heavens   seem  to  reflect  the   glowing 
splendor  like  that  of  a  new  sun.     We  gaze  upon 
8 


r  ii  p  r  e  -  - 

the  scene  with  astonishment  which  cannot  be 
expressed,  and  turning  away  from  that  vast 
crowd  of  princes,  soldiers,  priests,  and  civilians, 
we  pass  towards  our  hotel,  finding  everywhere 
the  houses  and  churches  reileeting  the  light  : 
that  brilliant  illumination,  while  out  in  the 
evening  sky  hangs  that  wondrous  dome,  shining 
like  another  sun  in  its  dazzlin.  _  And  j 

all  this  is  but  in  keeping  with  the  wealth  and 
splendor  of  the  R<  >nrish  Church,  which  has  gath- 
ered to  itself  the  riches  grandeur  of  the 
nations. 

Rome  abounds  in  relics.  Beyond  the  church 
of  St.  Paul  is  a  church  of  the  Fountain  which 
sprang  up  when  his  head  bounded  there  from 
the  hands  of  the  executioner.  Elsewhere  you 
meet  with  the  gridiron  of  Bi    L  :  I 

of  the  garments  of  the  Virgin  and  of  0  risft 
girdle:  the  rod  and  spong        -  the  cruci- 

fixion :  part  of  the  Virgin's  sepulchre  :  a  picture 
of  Christ,  given  by  P-r:  bi    I 
the  towel  used  in  wiping  the   disciples1   feet; 
some  of  Christ's  swaddling  clothes  and  of  His 
seanile—    restment:    three    thorns    from     His 


BABYLON.  155 

crown ;  fragments  of  the  true  cross,  and  hun- 
dreds of  others  of  the  same  character.  At 
Rome  you  meet  at  almost  every  church  offers  of 
plenary  indulgence  for  the  living  and  the  dead. 
The  Church  cannot  deny  that  she  sells,  and  has 
sold,  indulgences  or  premiums  to  rob,  to  mur- 
der, to  commit  crimes  worse  than  these.  For 
there  is  above  her  church  doors:  "Plenary  in- 
dulgence for  the  living  and  the  dead" 

As  to  the  people  of  Rome,  we  cannot  but 
observe  the  seriousness  which  pervades  the 
whole  city,  and  which  strangely  contrasts  with  the 
mirth  and  jollity  which  is  seen  in  Naples,  even 
amid  all  its  poverty.  The  Romans  look  serious 
and  gloomy,  and  well  they  may.  What  will  be 
the  end  of  this  wondrous  city  we  can  only  tell 
by  the  light  of  Scripture.  If,  as  there  can  be 
no  doubt,  this  is  the  "  Babylon"  of  the  Revela- 
tions, then  its  fate  is  clearly  foretold  and  dis- 
tinctly and  indisputably  described  in  the  Ian- 
guage  of  the  Spirit  to  St.  John,  as  lie  showed  to 
him  the  things  which  must  shortly  come  to 
pass: 

"  The  merchants  of  these  things,  which  were 


156  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

made  rich  by  her,  shall  stand  afar  off  for  the 
fear  of  her  torment,  weeping  and  wailing,  and 
saying,  Alas,  alas,  that  great  city,  that  was 
clothed  with  fine  linen,  and  purple,  and  scarlet, 
and  decked  with  gold,  and  precious  stones,  and 
pearls!  For  in  one  hour  so  great  riches  has 
come  to  nought. 

"  Eejoice  over  her,  thou  heaven,  and  ye  holy 
apostles  and  prophets;  for  God  hath  avenged 
you  on  her ! " 


VIII. 

ROME  TO  FLORENCE. 

THERE  was  a  wondrous  fascination  about 
the  city  of  Rome,  which  made  us  linger 
there,  even  when  we  were  warned  that  it  was 
time  for  us  to  leave  for  other  scenes.  Entering 
our  carriage  at  an  early  hour,  we  passed  the 
morning  of  our  departure  in  visiting  some  of 
the  most  important  and  imposing  sights  of 
the  Eternal  City.  I  have  said  nothing,  be- 
cause of  lack  of  time,  in  regard  to  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  features  of  Rome — its  fountains, 
which  seem  to  empty  a  river  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  city.  Here  a  great  sea-monster 
is  spouting  the  water  from  his  cavernous  throat 
— or  dolphins  are  playing  within  their  marble 
reservoirs — or  Neptune,  with  his  huge  horses? 
is  rising  from  the  sea,  amid  showers  of  spray 


158  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

— or  a  river  is  pouring  forth  its  singing  waters 
in  lovely  cascades,  over  moss-grown  rocks. 
These  fountains  are  a  striking  feature  of  Rome 
add  greatly  to  its  beauty,  and  stand  in  living 
and  pleasant  contrast  to  the  stern  and  solemn 
monuments  of  the  past,  whose  giant  shadows 
fall  upon  the  city  like  the  ghosts  of  departed 
ages. 

But  we  must  leave  these  scenes,  where  we 
have  been  living  among  the  dead  of  other 
centuries.  Every  step  brings  back  some  mem- 
ory of  the  regal  or  imperial  splendors  of 
this  mighty  city.  Every  fallen  column,  or  gi- 
gantic ruin,  seems  a  hand  thrust  out  to  push 
back  the  shadows  on  the  dial  of  Time.  We 
again  gaze  upon  the  blackened  walls  of  the 
Coliseum,  and  re-people  them  with  the  tens  of 
thousands  who  once  looked  upon  scenes,  the 
recital  of  which,  even  now,  thrills  the  soul  with 
horror.  We  pass  the  Forum,  and  the  Capitol ; 
see  Caesar  walking  in  his  pride,  and  Brutus, 
with  his  stern,  unbending  purpose,  and  hear 
the  voices  of  the  orators  of  Rome  ringing  out, 
clear  and  distinct,  the  noble  utterances  of  the 


LEAVING    ROME.  159 

advocate  or  the  patriot.  We  look  up  once 
more  at  that  wondrous  church  which,  in  mag- 
nificence and  grandeur,  surpasses  all  other 
temples  made  with  hands,  and  think  of  the 
history  and  the  destiny  of  that  great  hierarchy 
and  spiritual  despotism,  whose  home  is  there. 
We  pass  crowds  of  priests,  nuns,  and  monks, 
soldiers  and  beggars,  and  wonder  if  there  is 
not  a  mutual  connection  between  Popery,  Des- 
potism, and  Poverty.  We  go  out  of  the  gate 
of  the  city,  enter  the  cars,  and  are  whirled 
away  towards  the  sea ;  and,  as  we  look  back 
upon  the  pinnacles  and  domes  of  Rome,  and 
see  it  fading:  in  the  distance,  like  some  wonder- 
ful  vision,  we  feel  that  the  wild  dream  of  our 
youth  has  been  realized ;  that  we  have  looked 
upon  the  Eternal  City,  have  wandered  amid  its 
monuments,  and  felt  the  spell  with  which  it 
must  ever  bind  both  the  mind  and  the  heart. 

For  a  strange  and  mysterious  awe  hangs 
over  Rome.  There  it  has  stood  for  twenty-five 
hundred  years,  amid  revolutions  which  have 
shaken  down  and  raised  up  kingdoms.  It  has 
seen  the  race  of  kings  swept  away  when  Tar- 


160  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

quin  the  Proud  yielded  to  the  avenger  of  Lu- 
cretia's  honor.  It  has  witnessed  the  destruction 
of  the  Republic,  and,  amid  the  glories  of  the 
Empire,  it  was  adorned  with  monuments  which 
still  speak  of  its  greatness  and  grandeur.  It 
has  been  the  home  of  Genius :  there  the  poets 
sang,  the  orators  spake  out  a  thoughts  that 
breathe  and  words  that  burn ;"  and  the  painters 
and  sculptors  made  their  art  glorious.  Time 
has  been  busy  with  its  noblest  monuments. 
Hordes  of  barbarians  rushed  through  its  streets, 
and  poured  upon  its  people  the  red  tide  of  war. 
Internal  dissensions  have  threatened  it  with 
ruin.  And  yet  it  still  stands,  the  mausoleum  of 
its  own  greatness,  awaiting  the  time  when  God's 
threatenings  shall  be  fulfilled,  and  the  blood  of 
the  saints,  there  poured  out,  shall  be  most  fear- 
fully avenged.  And  its  fall,  with  that  of  the 
system  of  religious  intolerance,  oppression  and 
superstition  inseparably  connected  with  it,  shall 
be  the  rising  from  the  dead,  both  of  Italy  and 
the  world. 

But,  not  to  linger  longer  among  these  scenes, 
once  more  we  find  ourselves  at  Civita  Vecchia. 


A   NIGHT    PASSAGE.  161 

awaiting  permission  to  go  on  board  the  steamer, 
which  has  stopped  for  passengers  just  within 
the  harbor.  When  the  last  extortionate  de- 
mand is  at  length  satisfied,  we  stand  upon  the 
deck  of  the  steamer,  and  wonder  if  Civita  Vec- 
chia  has  its  equal  in  the  world  for  rascality  and 
for  all  mercenary  appliances,  with  which  to  put 
to  the  severest  possible  test  the  ordinary  virtues 
of  humanity. 

A  crowd  of  passengers  are  on  board  the 
steamer,  among  whom  are  some  Americans, 
whom,  as  they  will  be  our  companions  over  the 
Alps,  we  may  as  well  introduce  at  once.  That 
gentleman,  with  a  merry  eye  and  slouched  hat, 
is  our  former  fellow-citizen,  the  artist  Rogers, 
who  lias  attained  an  enviable  position  as  a  sculp- 
tor, and  having  just  finished  and  sent  off  his 
models  for  the  bronze  doors  of  the  Capitol  at 
Washington,  is  now  resting,  for  a  few  days, 
from  study.  The  ladies  are  from  the  sunny 
South,  and  although  one  is  a  Roman  Catholic, 
she  has  so  much  of  the  true  stamp  of  piety, 
both  in  her  manner  and  conversation,  that  you 
cannot  help  loving  her.  There  are  two  prin- 
8* 


162  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

cesses  on  board,  entire  contrasts  in  appearance. 
The  one  is  young,  beautiful  and  lovely.  The 
other  neither  young  nor  beautiful.  Priests  and 
monks,  some  with  black  serge  cassocks,  others 
in  white  flannel,  and  others  still,  with  coarse 
sackcloth  robes,  whose  hoods  are  drawn  over 
their  heads  in  lieu  of  hats,  swarm  around,  their 
toes  and  heels  sticking  out  from  toeless  and 
heelless  sandals ;  and  what  possible  connection 
there  is  between  religion  and  the  wearing  of 
dilapidated  shoes  and  grotesque  apparel,  I  could 
never  understand.  Crowds  of  travellers  re- 
turning from  Naples,  Malta  and  Rome,  are  sit- 
ting in  groups  about  the  deck,  while  the  sailors 
are  busily  covering  with  tarpaulin  the  heaps  of 
baggage  upon  the  deck,  anticipating  the  rain 
which  yonder  clouds  threaten. 

A  night  of  utter  discomfort  passes,  and  morn- 
ing finds  us  at  Leghorn,  one  of  the  ports  of 
Tuscany,  where  the  stranger  is  totally  aban- 
doned to  the  tender  mercies  of  boatmen  and 
commissioners.  We  are  rowed  to  the  Custom- 
house and  Police  station,  which  stands  upon  an 
island,  and  from  thence   wp  reached   the  main 


LEGHORN-  163 

land,  where  the  most  prominent  object  is  the 
celebrated  statue  of  the  Four  Slaves,  executed 
in  honor  of  Ferdinand  de  Medici.  Here  we 
meet  the  galleys,  one  of  the  first  objects  which 
strike  the  stranger  in  the  Mediterranean  ports, 
where  the  Government  prisoners  are  employed, 
instead  of  donke}Ts  or  steam  engines,  to  load 
and  unload  vessels- 
Leghorn  is  the  commercial  capital  of  Tuscany, 
and  has  every  appearance  of  thrift  and  pros- 
perity. It  is  a  favorite  summer  resort  of  the 
Italians,  and  the  drive  along  the  shore  is  one  of 
great  interest  and  beauty.  On  the  one  hand 
sleep  the  blue  waters  of  the  Mediterranean  ;  on 
the  other  are  beautiful  villas,  surrounded  by 
exquisite  gardens  and  shrubbery,  and  giving 
evidences  of  domestic  comfort  and  ease  widely 
contrasting  with  the  poverty  and  filth  which 
may  readily  be  found  in  other  parts  of  the  city. 
After  a  thorough  examination  of  our  baggage 
and  passports,  we  find  our  way  to  the  cars,  and 
in  an  hour1*  ride  through  a  pleasant  farming 
country,  are  set  down  at  Pisa,  one  of  the  most 
ancient  and  beautiful  towns  in  Italy,  situated  in 


164  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  midst  of  a  fertile  plain,  about  eight  miles 
from  the  sea.  The  river  Arno  divides  the  city 
into  two  unequal  portions.  The  streets  are 
narrow,  and  are  crowded  with  a  population 
which  seems  to  live  wholly  out  of  doors.  Priests, 
soldiers,  monks,  gendarmes,  nun-,  donkeys,  beg- 
gars, women  and  children,  busy  or  idle,  driv- 
ing bargains,  or  lounging  in  utter  listlessness. 
selling  flowers  or  fruits,  or  running  after  the  car- 
riage for  a  few  granos — these  make  up  the  crowd 
through  which  yon  pass,  on  your  way  to  the 
north-western  extremity  of  the  city,  where  the 
great  attraction  of  Pi>a  is  to  be  found.  Emerg- 
ing from  the  narrow  streets  into  an  open  square, 
we  come  to  the  cathedral,  with  its  campanile, 
baptistry,  and  celebrated  burial-ground. 

The  first  object  which  attracts  our  attention 
is  the  Leaning  Tower.  It  is  probable  that  be- 
fore it  was  finished,  the  foundation  on  one  aide 
began  to  sink,  and  to  overcome  this  difficulty, 
the  columns  on  the  leaning  side  were  made 
larger  than  those  opposite.  Yet  -till  the  tower, 
although  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  high,  in- 
clines so  far,  that  a  line  dropped  from  it*  sum- 


pisa.  165 

rait  would  fall  fifteen  feet  from  the  ba8e.  It  is 
a  graceful  structure,  light  and  airy,  eight  stories 
high,  and  supported  by  two  hundred  and  seven 
columns.  In  the  seventh  story  is  a  chime  of 
bells,  one  of  which  weighs  ten  thousand  pounds. 
It  was  here  that  Galileo  made  his  experiments 
to  discover  the  laws  of  falling  bodies. 

Crossing  to  the  cathedral,  we  enter  one  of 
the  finest  churches  in  Italy,  enriched  by  spoils 
taken  from  the  Saracens,  and  supported  by  col- 
umns which  once  stood  in  ancient  structures  in 
Rome,  Greece  and  Egypt.  It  is  built  in  the 
form  of  a  cross,  three  hundred  and  eleven  by 
two  hundred  and  thirty-seven  feet ;  and  was 
begun  in  the  year  1067,  and  finished  in  1118. 
Its  interior  is  singularly  rich  and  beautiful. 
Two  rows  of  Corinthian  columns — twelve  on 
either  side — of  red  granite  and  various  marbles, 
form  a  base,  from  which  springs  a  series  of 
beautiful  and  airy  arches,  rising  to  and  support- 
ing the  ceiling,  ninety-one  feet  from  the  pave- 
ment. One  of  the  altars  is  of  Lapis  Lazuli,  the 
costliest  stone  of  Europe  ;  another  is  encased  in 
silver,  while  statues  of  solid  silver  support  the 


166  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

tabernacle,  and  give  to  the  whole  an  air  of  rich- 
ness which  few,  if  any  others  in  the  world,  can 
equal.  From  the  ceiling  still  hangs  the  bronze 
lamp,  whose  vibrations  first  suggested  to  Galileo 
the  idea  of  the  pendulum.  Passing  out  through 
the  bronze  doors  of  the  cathedral,  we  enter  the 
baptistry,  a  building  ninety  feet  in  diameter, 
with  a  dome  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  in 
height.  In  this  structure  is  a  most  wonderful 
and  perfect  echo,  by  which  a  few  notes  of  music 
are  caught  up,  repeated  and  multiplied,  until 
they  die  away  in  the  recesses  of  the  dome,  as  if 
angels  had  caught  the  melody  and  were  bearing 
it  heavenward.  Near  the  baptistry  is  the 
Campo  Sancto,  or  burying-ground,  which  was 
fitted  to  be  the  repository  of  the  dead  by  being 
filled  with  fifty-three  vessel  loads  of  earth 
brought  from  Mount  Calvary.  Beautiful  fres- 
coes by  Giotto  adorn  the  walls,  while  around 
are  sarcophagi,  urns,  vases  and  statues  of  rare 
interest  and  beauty.  This  Giotto  was  a  cele- 
brated Italian  artist,  and  when  a  deputation 
from  the  Pope  came  to  him  to  ask  him  for  a 
specimen  of  his  skill,  so  that  the  Church  might 


GIOTTO.  167 

judge  whether  he  was  able  to  paint  her  frescoes, 
he  simply  drew  a  circle,  arid  said,  "Take  that.'1 
"Is  this  all?"  asked  the  messengers.  "It  is 
enough,"  replied  Giotto.  It  was  enough,  and 
Giotto  went  to  Rome.  In  this  burial-place  you 
see  the  tombs  of  many  of  the  noblest  families  in 
Italy,  appropriately  adorned  with  statues  or 
bas-reliefs. 

But  leaving  Pisa,  we  again  take  the  road  from 
Leghorn  to  Florence,  which  is  about  fifty  miles 
in  length,  and  runs  through  a  well-cultivated 
valley,  watered  by  the  Arno,  and  bounded  by 
ranges  of  hills  that  increase  in  height  as  they  ap- 
proach Florence,  where  they  close  in  about  that 
city  and  present  from  their  summit  one  of  the 
loveliest  panoramas  in  Italy.  The  valleys  and 
hill-sides,  between  Leghorn  and  Florence,  are 
covered  with  fine  crops  of  grain,  with  vine- 
yards, and  olive-yards,  whose  luxuriance  prom- 
ises an  abundant  harvest ;  while  large  patches 
of  flax  are  strewed  along  the  Arno,  undergoing 
the  processes  by  which  they  will  soon  be  trans- 
formed into  thread  and  cloth.  The  fields  are 
filled   with  joyous  groups  of   happy  peasants. 


168  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

mule  and  female,  who  are  securing  the  rich  har- 
vests which  have  whitened  beneath  the  sum- 
mer's sun.  At  the  doors  of  their  neat  cottages, 
or  beneath  the  cool  shade  of  the  trees  or  wide- 
spreading  vines,  women  and  children  are  busy 
with  their  distaffs  and  spindles,  or  plaiting  the 
braids  of  straw  which  form  so  important  an 
article  of  commerce  in  Tuscany.  The  distaff  is 
the  same  which  has  been  in  use  for  thousands 
of  years  in  the  East,  and  brings  back  to  the 
mind  the  customs  of  the  ancients.  There  is 
another  custom  which,  ever  since  Jacob  kissed 
Rachel  at  the  well,  has  become  quite  universal 
and  pojDular  as  a  sign  of  affection  between 
the  sexes ;  but  we  do  not  often  see  men  kiss- 
ing men.  On  our  way  to  Florence,  however,  we 
witnessed  this  (to  us)  strange  spectacle,  and 
although  we  have  adopted  many  foreign  fash- 
ions, I  presume  this  will  not  soon  become 
general.  Two  men,  neither  of  whom  were  very 
small,  and  one  was  immense,  happened  to  meet 
in  the  cars,  and,  throwing  their  arms  about  each 
other  with  the  greatest  gusto,  gave  such  a  smack 
that    one  would  have    thought   the  cars   had 


PONTE    VECCHIO.  169 

broken  down.     This    method    of  salutation  is 
quite  common  in  Italy. 

As  we  approach  Florence,  the  scenery  in- 
creases in  beauty,  till  we  at  last  enter  the  city, 
and  proceed  to  the  delightful  Hotel  of  Madame 
Molini,  in  the  old  Palazza  Schneideriff.  We 
entered  Madame  Molini's  house  strangers,  and 
eft  it  as  friends,  with,  we  trust,  mutual  regret. 
The  walls  of  Florence,  six  miles  in  circuit,  en- 
close a  population  of  about  one  hundred  and 
sixteen  thousand  souls.  The  river  Arno  divides 
the  city  into  two  unequal  parts,  the  largest  of 
which  lies  northward  of  the  river.  Four 
bridges  cross  the  Arno  within  the  city  limits, 
and  two  in  the  suburbs.  One  of  these  bridges, 
the  Ponte  Vecchio,  seems  like  a  street,  and,  in- 
deed, is  only  the  continuation  of  one,  and  is 
lined  with  shops,  mostly  for  the  sale  of  jewelry, 
of  which  the  people  are  extravagantly  fond, 
scarcely  a  peasant  girl  appearing  without  at 
least  a  string  of  gold  beads,  which  have  been  in 
her  family  perhaps  for  generations.  The  Ponte 
di  Santa  Trinita,  a  beautiful  marble  bridge, 
having  three  noble  arches,  is  decorated  at  each 


170  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

extreme  with  statues  of  the  seasons,  and  is 
about  three  hundred  and  twenty-three  feet 
long.  This  is  about  the  width  of  the  Arno, 
which  is  so  shallow  that  one  can  wade  across  it 
anywhere. 

Crossing  this  bridge,  or  the  Ponte  Vecchio, 
we  pass  through  various  streets,  lined  with 
shops  of  every  description,  and  thronged  with 
a  busy  and  active  population,  who  give  every 
evidence  of  thrift  and  industry.  We  entered 
Florence  not  long  after  the  revolution  which 
followed  the  abdication  of  the  Grand  Duke, 
who  foolishly  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of 
Austria.  Yet  everything  was  moving  on  under 
the  provisional  government  as  peacefully  as  if 
the  people  had  been  accustomed  to  self-govern- 
ment for  years — a  noble  evidence  of  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Italians,  and  their  fitness  to  enjoy  the 
blessing  of  a  free  and  liberal  government,  if  but 
left  to  themselves.  When  the  Grand  Duke  ab- 
dicated, there  was  no  shouting,  no  open  rejoic- 
ing, no  popular  outbreak — the  people  behaved 
like  gentlemen,  and  concealed  the  exultation 
they  felt.     Neither  did  they  abuse  their  power. 


THE    DUO  MO.  171 

All  the  officers  of  the  Court,  except  those  who 
were  Austrians,  were  retained  in  their  stations, 
and  they  did  not,  as  we  do,  turn  out  tried  and 
faithful  servants,  because  they  do  not  happen 
to  vote  the  same  ticket,  or  believe  the  same  set 
of  political  opinions  that  we  do. 

Every  day's  sojourn  in  Florence  gives  us  a 
new  impression  of  the  appellation,  "Firenze  la 
Bella"  Florence  the  Beautiful!  Genius  and 
wealth  have  left  their  enduring  monuments  on 
every  hand.  First  in  interest  and  grandeur  is 
the  Duomo,  or  cathedral,  whose  outer  walls  are 
encased  in  rich  Italian  marbles,  and  whose  mas- 
sive and  magnificent  dome  gave  to  Michael 
Angelo  the  idea  of  that  of  St.  Peter's.  The  in- 
terior is  sombre  and  dark,  on  account  of  the 
small  windows  and  stained  glass,  but  the  effect 
is  grand  and  sublime,  as  you  stand  beneath  the 
swelling  dome  and  look  down  through  the  vast 
arches  and  columns,  and  hear  the  glorious  music 
which  rises  heavenward  at  morning  and  even- 
ing service.  The  walls  and  ceilings  are  com- 
paratively bare  of  decorations.  Here  is  the 
celebrated,  though    unfinished,  picture  by  An- 


172  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

gelo,  of  the  entombment  of  Christ;  and   here 

repose  the  ashes  of  Giotto.  Near  the  church 
Stands  the  campanile,  a  square  tower  of  mar- 
ble, elaborately  wrought,  and  rising  t<>  the 
height  of  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet. 
So  rich  and  beautiful  is  this  bell-tower,  that 
Charles  V.  declared  that  it  ought  not  to  stand 
out  of  doors,  but  should  be  kept  in  a  glass  case, 
to  be  exhibited  only  on  special  occasion-. 

Just  opposite  is  the  baptistry  of  San  Gio- 
vanni, entered  by  immense  bronze  doors,  on 
which  are  wrought  scripture  scenes,  in  bas- 
relief,  so  perfect  that  Michael  Angelo,  and,  after 
him,  the  poet  Rogers,  declared  that  they  were 
fit  to  be  the  gates  of  paradise.  This  baptistry 
is  supposed  to  have  been  built  as  early  as  the 
seventh  century,  and  was  for  many  years,  until 
the  erection  of  the  Duomo,  used  as  a  cathedral 
church.  All  of  the  baptisms  of  the  city  are  per- 
formed here.  But  the  church  of  most  interest 
is  that  of  Santa  Croce,  the  Westminster  Abbey 
of  Italy.  As  you  pass  up  and  down  the  vast 
aisles  and  through  the  numerous  chapels  of  this 
church,  yon  meet  with  names  whose   fame  is 


SANTA    CROCE.  173 

world-wide  and  undying.  Here  is  the  tomb  of 
Michael  Angelo,  placed,  as  he  desired,  so  that 
when  the  doors  of  the  church  are  open,  the  cu- 
pola of  the  Duomo  may  he  distinctly  seen. 
Here  stands  a  statue  of  Italy,  pointing  to  the 
image  of  Dante,  whose  ashes  sleep  in  exile  from 
the  home  of  his  youth.  Here  are  the  monu- 
ments to  Galileo,  who  was  treated  as  a  heretic, 
until  they  found  that  the  world  would  not  re- 
gard him  as  such ;  of  Alfieri ;  of  Michielli  and 
Boccacio.  Here  sleep  the  wife  and  daughter  of 
Joseph  Bonaparte  ;  and  here  are  interred  the 
ashes  of  the  father  of  the  present  Emperor  of 
France.  Many  of  the  monuments  and  tombs 
are  of  the  most  exquisite  and  perfect  workman- 
ship, rivalling  life,  or  rather  death  itself,  in  their 
cold  loveliness. 

Not  far  from  the  Duomo  is  the  church  of 
Santa  Maria  Novella,  which  Angelo  used  to  call 
"  his  bride,  and  his  dear  delight."  Here  Bocca- 
cio used  to  meditate,  and  here  he  arranged  the 
opening  scenes  of  his  "Decameron,"  during  the 
prevalence  of  the  plague.  On  the  whole,  there 
is,  perhaps,  no  church   in  Florence  which   com- 


174  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

bines  so  much  of  interest  and  beauty  as  this. 
The  decorations  are  scarcely  equalled  in  Italy 
for  wealth  and  exquisite  taste.  Here  is  the 
celebrated  Madonna,  painted  upon  a  ground  of 
gold,  and  representing  the  Virgin  with  the  in- 
fant Saviour,  surrounded  by  angels.  The  rival 
of  this  church  is  that  of  the  Annunciation,  con- 
taining the  wonderful  picture  of  "  the  Annunci- 
ation," said  to  have  been  painted  by  the  angels 
while  the  artist  was  asleep.  Near  by  is  the 
church  of  San  Lorenzo,  consecrated  in  the  year 
393,  by  St.  Ambrose,  but  rebuilt  in  the  thir- 
teenth century.  Its  chief  interest  is  derived 
from  the  buildings  connected  with  it,  in  one  of 
which  is  the  famous  library,  built  by  the  Medici 
family,  and  containing  upwards  of  nine  thou- 
sand manuscripts  alone,  of  the  rarest  character. 
Besides  autographs  of  Virgil,  and  other  Roman 
poets,  there  are  Egyptian,  Hebrew  and  Chaldaic 
manuscripts,  precious  beyond  price. 

The    sacristy   is   one  of  the   first    works   of 
Michael  Angelo  as  an  architect.     This  is 

:I  That  chamber  of  the  dead. 
Where  the  gigantic  shapes  of  Xight  and  Day, 
Turned  into  stone,  rest  everlastingly." 


SAX    LORENZO.  175 

Here  are  the  sepulchral  monuments  of  the 
Medicis,  and  other  noble  families  of  Tuscany. 
Upon  one  of  them,  containing  the  remains  of 
Lorenzo  cle  Meclicis,  there  are  two  figures  repre- 
senting Morning  and  Twilight ;  and  immediately 
opposite  are  the  statues  of  Night  and  Day, 
which,  though  unfinished,  are  sufficiently  ad- 
vanced to  allow  us  to  see  the  magnificent  con- 
ception of  the  artist  who  could  think  out  the 
Last  Judgment  and  the  cathedral  of  St.  Peter's. 
Over  these  the  statue  of  Lorenzo  is  seated.  He 
appears  absorbed  in  thought,  resting  his  face 
upon  his  hand,  by  which  it  is  partially  covered. 
The  light,  as  it  falls  upon  this  figure,  throws 
upon  it  a  peculiar  shadow  which  gives  to  it 
a  mysterious  and  almost  painful  fascination. 
Rogers,  the  poet,  alludes  to  it  in  his  "  Italy,"  in 
terms  which  have  doubtless  found  a  response 
from  many  a  visitor,  who  has  gazed  upon  and 
dreamed  of  that  weird  statue. 

k'\Ybat,  from  beneath  this  helm  like  bonnet,  scowls? 
Is  it  a  face,  or  but  an  eyeless  skull  ? 
Tis  lost  in  shade;  yet,  like  the  basilisk, 
It  fascinates,  and  is  intolerable." 

This  statue  also  is  by  Michael  Angelo,  whose 


4 
}  tl'>  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 


name  we  have  repeated  often,  but  not  half  so 
often  as  one  is  obliged  to  listen  to  in  Italy. 
You  look  upon  some  graceful  and  beautiful 
sculpture,  and  ask  whose  work  it  was  :  "Michael 
Angelo's."  Presently,  in  some  other  place,  you 
happen  upon  a  figure  which  fairly  enchants 
you.  If  you  ask  whose  it  is  you  have  the  same 
repl}- — "  Michael  Angelo's."  You  see  some 
chapel  exquisitely  designed  and  built,  and  ask 
the  architect :  "  Michael  Angelo."  You  find  a 
figure  of  Moses,  coming  up  to  your  idea  of 
what  Moses  really  was — the  sculptor  was 
Michael  Angelo.  Finally,  you  go  to  St.  Peter's, 
that  wonder  of  the  world,  that  mountain  of 
hewn  stone,  and  you  feel  that  it  is  a  fit  monu- 
ment for  such  a  man,  whose  mind  sported  with 
conceptions  which  would  have  crushed  any  or- 
dinary intellect,  and  seemed  to  delight  in  the 
immense  and  massive.  Angelo  was-  a  sculptor 
and  painter,  as  well  as  an  architect,  and  it  is  said 
that  he  could  paint  with  one  hand  while  sculp- 
turing with  the  other. 

We  next  enter  the   Medicean  Chapel,  which 
was  designed  as  a  mausoleum  for  the  Medicean 


ME  DICE  AN    CHAPEL.  177 

family,  a  race  which  has  now  altogether  died 
out.  Upon  the  escutcheon  of  this  family  are 
the  three  golden  balls,  now  seen  before  pawn- 
brokers' shops.  The  merchants  of  Lombardy, 
many  of  whom  were  pawnbrokers,  adopted  this 
sign,  and  it  has  now  become  general.  To  re- 
turn, however,  the  chapel  is  lined  with  rich 
Mosaics,  of  mother-of-pearl,  topaz,  coral,  corne- 
lian, chalcedony,  agate,  lapiz  lazuli,  and  others 
of  the  most  precious  stones,  fitted  together  with 
the  most  exquisite  taste  and  skill.  The  chapel 
is  slowly  advancing  towards  completion,  al- 
though often  delayed  for  want  of  means,  or  by 
political  disturbances. 

From  the  brief  and  imperfect  description  we 
have  given  of  the  churches,  you  may  form  some 
idea  of  what  the  palaces  must  be.  Let  us  visit 
the  Palazza  Veechio,  the  seat  of  the  ancient 
government  of  Tuscany.  In  front  of  it  are 
groups  of  statuary  of  the  most  interesting  char- 
acter: one  is  Hercules,  another  the  David  of 
Angelo.  Under  a  lofty  arcade  is  the  "Rape  of 
the  Sabines,"  and  u  Perseus,"  and  near  by  is  a 
magnificent  bronze  statue  of  ( Josimo  I.  Enter? 
0 


178  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

ing  the  Palace,  we  pass  through  vast  saloons, 
containing  the  masterpieces  of  the  world.  Here 
is  the  famous  Venus  de  Medieis,  whose  beauty 
Byron  has  sung : 

• ;  We  gaze,  and  turn  away,  and  know  not  where ; 
Dazzled  and  drunk  with  beauty,  till  the  heart 
Reels  with  its  fullness ;  then  forever  there, 
Chained  to  the  chariot  of  triumphal  art. 
We  stand  a  captive,  and  would  not  depart." 

In  the  same  room  are  other  groups  of  statu- 
ary, and  exquisite  paintings  by  Raphael,  Titian, 
Paul  Veronese,  Vandyck,  Del  Sarto,  and  a  host 
of  others,  whose  works  have  made  their  names 
immortal.  Here,  day  after  day,  we  stand  and 
gaze  at  these  magnificent  conceptions  of  the 
Masters  of  Italy  and  the  world,  and  under- 
stand, better  than  ever  before,  the  meaning  of 
the  verse : 

••  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  for  ever." 

Nor  is  our  amazement  at  the  extent  and  power 
of  Italian  genius  lessened  when  we  cross  the 
Amo,  and  wander  through  the  magnificent  halls 
of  the  Pitti  palace,  with  its  profusion  of  paint- 
ings and  statuary,  of  which  time  would  fail  us 
to  speak.     Indeed,  there  seems  to  be  no  end  of 


GALILEO.  179 

the  palaces  and  museums  of  Florence.  Here  is 
a  noble  collection  of  Natural  History.  A  suit 
of  rooms  has  been  appropriated  to  the  instru- 
ments with  which  Galileo  carried  on  his  investi- 
gations into  the  laws  of  the  universe.  Here,  in 
three  glass  cases,  is  a  most  wonderful  represen- 
tation of  the  progress  of  death  by  the  plague, 
from  the  first  symptoms  of  the  disease  to  the 
last  stages  of  decay.  One  wonders  how  the 
artist  ever  modelled  these  figures  without  him- 
self catching  the  plague. 

Nor  does  Florence  lose  its  interest,  as  we  pass 
to  its  suburbs.  On  that  hill,  just  south  of  the 
city,  rises  the  tower  from  which  Galileo  studied 
the  heavens,  and  where  Milton  visited  him  in 
his  retirement ;  and  still  beyond  is  the  house 
where  the  philosopher,  neglected,  outcast  and 
persecuted,  died  in  poverty,  attended  only  by  a 
single  friend. 

From  what  has  been  said  of  Florence,  as  a  re- 
pository of  art,  it  is  no  wonder  that  it  is  the 
home  of  artists.  Here  Powers  lives,  and  at  his 
studio  we  saw  the  statue  of  Washing-ton,  recent- 
ly arrived  in   this  country,  and  the  exquisite 


180 j  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

figure  of  "  California.1'  Hart,  of  Kentucky,  and 
many  other  American  and  foreign  sculptors 
have  their  studios  here. 

Passing  out  of  Florence,  we  ascend  the  heights 
of  Fiesole,  with  its  ancient  Etruscan  walls,  and 
the  old  town  and  fortress,  rising  1,100  feet  above 
the  city,  and  which  stood  before  Florence  was 
built.  Here  is  a  Franciscan  monastery,  and 
many  interesting  relics  of  the  aborigines  of  Tus- 
cany. As  you  look  from  the  hill,  one  of  the 
lovliest  of  panoramas  is  before  you.  A  large 
city,  with  its  Italian  towers  and  domes,  is  at 
your  feet,  surrounded  by  an  endless  variety  of 
beauty ;  while  beyond,  the  swelling  hills,  crown- 
ed with  groves  of  olives,  vineyards,  and  smiling 
villas,  form  a  background  to  a  picture  which, 
once  seen,  can  never  be  forgotten. 

Florence  abounds  in  public  gardens  and 
drives,  of  which  the  most  remarkable  are  the 
gardens  connected  with  the  Pitti  Palace  and  the 
Cascino.  The  former  are,  perhaps,  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  extensive  in  Europe.  They  are  exqui- 
sitely laid  out  upon  the  hills  overlooking  the 
city,  and  have  scattered  along  their  walks  5,000 


THE    MISERICORDIA.  181 

vases  of  flowers,  and  500  citron  and  orange 
trees.  The  Cascino,  lying  west  of  the  city,  upon 
the  Arno,  is  a  vast  park  where  the  citizens  meet 
of  an  afternoon  for  social  recreation  and  enjoy- 
ment. Fashionable  calls  are  made  upon  the 
ladies  as  they  sit  here  in  their  carriages. 

Among  the  many  benevolent  institutions  of 
the  city  is  the  Misericordia,  a  society  formed  to 
give  relief  to  the  sick  and  dying.  A  call  of  the 
bell  brings  together  the  members,  who  are  dis- 
guised in  black  gowns,  dominos,  and  masks, 
and  who,  without  recognizing  each  other — so 
that  a  gentleman  may  stand  side  by  side  with 
his  valet — meet  to  perform  the  duties  of  their 
office.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  of  an  evening 
to  see  a  procession  of  the  members  of  this  so- 
ciety, having  a  litter  with  some  sick  or  wounded 
man  upon  it,  whom  they  are  bearing -to  the  hos- 
pital or  his  home,  there  to  be  attended  to  until 
returning  health  or  death  releases  him  from  his 
sufferings. 

While  Florence  and  Tuscany  are  both  Ro- 
man Catholic,  and  feel  the  full  power  of  the 
priesthood,  it  is  a  fact  which  cannot  but  elicit 


182  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  gratitude  of  every  Christian,  that  there  the 
gospel  has  been  preached,  and  has  found  a  foot- 
hold; that  Protestant  ministers  and  churches 
have  been  tolerated  to  some  extent,  and  that 
nearly  10,000  copies  of  the  Bible  have  been  put 
in  circulation.  The  Bible-readers  abound  there, 
and  carry  on  their  operations  as  at  Lyons.  In- 
quiry after  the  truth  has  been  awakened,  and 
we  cannot  but  trust  with  confidence  in  workings 
of  that  Word,  of  which  God  has  said,  "  It  shall 
not  return  unto  me  void." 


IX. 

FLORENCE  TO  TURIN". 

WE  left  Florence  with  regret.  Who  could 
suppress  a  sigh  at  bidding  farewell  to  a 
city  of  such  beauty,  to  scenes  where  nature  has 
fairly  lavished  her  loveliness,  and  to  friends 
whose  kindness  had  made  us  a  home,  even  in  a 
land  of  strangers.  We  were  turning  away  from 
the  abode  of  Genius  and  Art ;  from  scenes  which 
have  been  made  forever  memorable  by  the  chisel 
of  the  sculptor,  the  pencil  of  the  painter,  the 
lyre  of  the  poet,  and  the  pen  of  the  historian. 
It  was  on  the  morning  of  a  beautiful  summer 
day  that  we  took  leave  of  that  group  of  friends 
whom  we  had  daily  met  at  the  table  of  Mad- 
ame Molini,  and  drove  towards  the  station  on 
the  road  to  Leghorn.  A  flood  of  golden  sun- 
light was  streaming  down  upon  that  lovely  val- 


184  IxMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

ley  in  which  Florence  rests,  and  bathing  in 
glory  the  swelling  hills  which  surround  the  city. 
On  our  right  rose  abruptly  the  heights  of  Fi- 
esole,  with  its  monastery,  designed  by  Michael 
Angelo,  its  lofty  and  imposing  cathedral,  and 
its  quaint  commingling  of  ancient  and  modern 
architecture.  Behind  us  was  the  hill,  crowned 
with  the  antique  tower  from  which  Galileo  once 
explored  the  heavens  with  his  telescope ;  while 
still  beyond  it  were  the  forests  and  mountains 
of  Vallambrosa.  Upon  our  left  were  the  bright 
waters  of  the  Arno,  while  on  every  side  the  hills 
were  smiling  in  their  beauty,  covered  with 
thousands  of  villas  and  palaces,  looking  out  from 
dense  groves  of  olives  and  cypress,  or  surround- 
ed by  fields  stacked  with  the  gathered  harvest, 
or  giving  promise  of  a  rich  and  abundant  vin- 
tage. Here  and  there  a  crumbling  ruin,  an  aban- 
doned fortress,  or  a  time-worn  cathedral,  point- 
ed us  back  to  ages  of  past  glory,  which  filled 
Italy  with  its  monuments ;  while  the  vast  dome 
of  the  Santa  Maria,  with  its  beautiful  campanile 
(whose  bells  were  even  then  summoning  the 
Florentines  to  their  matin  devotions),  once  more 


BEAUTIFUL    ITALY.  185 

arrested  our  attention,  and  seemed  to  impress 
indelibly  upon  our  memories  the  beauties  which 
were  fast  fading  from  our  visions. 

As  we  recall  even  now  that  scene  of  exquisite 
loveliness,  we  can  fully  sympathize  with  the 
impassioned  words  of  Byron,  who  once  visited 
these  scenes,  whose  genius  kindled  beneath  their 
wondrous  beauty,  and  whose  mind  and  heart 
appreciated  the  terrible  reality  of  Italy's  oppres- 
sion and  suffering: 

"  Italia !     Oh,  Italia  1     Thou  who  hast 

The  fatal  gift  of  beauty,  which  became 

A  funeral  dower  of  present  woes  and  past ; 

On  thy  sweet  brow  is  sorrow  plough'd  by  shame, 

And  annals  graved  in  characters  of  flame  ! 

Oh,  God !  that  thou  wert  in  thy  nakedness 

Less  lovely  or  more  powerful,  and  could'  st  claim 

Thy  right,  and  awe  the  robbers  back,  who  press 
To  shed  thy  blood,  and  drink  the  tears  of  thy  distress ; 

"Then  might'st  thou  more  appall;  or,  less  desired, 
Be  homely  and  be  peaceful,  undeplored 
For  thy  destructive  charms  ;  then,  still  untired, 
Would  not  be  seen  the  armed  torrents  pour'd 
Down  the  deep  Alps;  nor  would  the  hostile  horde 
Of  many-nation'd  spoilers  from  the  Po 
Quaff  blood  and  water  ;  nor  the  stranger's  sword 
Be  thy  sad  weapon  of  defence,  and  so 
Victor  or  vanquish'd,  thou  the  slave  of  friend  or  foe." 

No  man  can  tread  amid  the  fair  scenes  of 
Italy,  and  not  feel  a  pang  of  sorrow  that,  with 


186  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

so  much  that  is  lovely  and  glorious  in  Nature 
and  Art,  there  should  be  everywhere  present 
the  marks  of  oppression  and  superstition. 
When  shall  Italy  rise  in  her  power  and  dignity 
as  a  nation?  When  shall  the  light  of  God's 
Word  scatter  the  midnight  that  now  rests  with 
its  dark  and  gloomy  shadow  over  scenes  of  such 
exquisite  beauty,  and  over  a  people  who,  un- 
der proper  influences,  might  reproduce  the  old 
Roman  glory,  heightened  and  made  perpetual 
by  the  light  of  a  true  and  spiritual  religion. 
The  Papal  Church, — with  its  load  of  supersti- 
tions and  childish  mummeries,  its  idle  traditions, 
its  unscriptural  rites  and  doctrines,  its  armies 
of  priests,  monks,  and  nuns;  its  vast  monastic 
institutions ;  its  wily  and  terrible  Jesuitism,  and 
its  hatred  of  the  Word  of  God  as  a  Book  for 
the  people, — rests  like  a  nightmare  upon  Italy. 
It  opposes  her  progress;  it  interferes  with  her 
political  institutions;  it  winds  itself  into  her 
government ;  it  arrays  her  kings  and  princes 
against  her  citizens ;  it  shuts  out  light  and  lib- 
erty ;  it  loves  darkness  and  resists  every  effort 
to  scatter  its  shadows.     In  her  recent  struo-^le 


THE    PAPAL   CHURCH.  187 

to  free  herself  from  the  dominion  of  Austria, 
and  to  give  her  fair  domain  to  her  own  children, 
Italy  has  found  her  bitterest  opponent  in  the 
Roman  hierarchy.  Can  we  doubt  that,  when 
the  day  of  retribution  comes — as  come  it  will — 
all  this  will  be  remembered,  and  the  voice  which 
John  heard  in  Apocalyptic  vision  shall  be  ech- 
oed over  the  plains  of  Italy,  heralding  the  down- 
fall of  the  terrible  system  which  has  so  long 
crushed  out  the  liberties  of  the  world,  "Re- 
ward her  as  she  has  rewarded  you  ? " 

But  we  must  hasten  on  from  these  scenes 
and  reflections.  A  pleasant  ride  of  three  hours 
brings  us  to  Leghorn,  where,  after  the  usual 
delay,  we  find  ourselves  on  board  the  "  Vatican," 
with  an  immense  throng  of  passengers,  waiting 
for  three -long  and  weary  hours  the  departure 
of  the  steamer.  Just  before  sunset  we  made 
our  way  out  of  the  harbor,  and  were  again 
afloat  upon  the  blue  waters  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, and  gazing  upon  the  distant  hills  along 
the  coast,  which  were  shining  in  the  indescrib- 
able glow  of  an  Italian  atmosphere.  The 
crowded  state  of  the  ship  excluded   all  hope  of 


188  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

obtaining  any  ordinary  sleeping-place,  and  af- 
forded us  the  opportunity  of  seeing  every 
available  spot  upon  the  quarter-deck  covered 
with  mattresses,  and  some  fifty  or  sixty  men, 
women  and  children,  priests,  monks  and  nuns, 
undertaking  to  sleep  through  a  night  of  heat  so 
intense  as  to  be  almost  unendurable.  My 
friend  Rogers  and  myself  made  our  way  for- 
ward, through  a  mass  of  heads,  arms  and  feet, 
so  intermingled  that  it  required  skilful  naviga- 
tion to  avoid  treading  upon  them,  and  found 
a  most  comfortable  standing-place,  where  we 
could  while  away  an  hour  in  talking  of  Italy, 
her  past,  present  and  future.  Toward  morning 
I  crept  into  the  cabin  and  attempted  to  sleep, 
but  it  was  like  trying  to  keep  cool  at  the  mouth 
of  a  furnace.  The  morning  at  length  dawned, 
and  with  its  first  grey  twilight  I  arose  and 
looked  out  upon  the  hills  of  the  Bay  of  Genoa. 
The  light  had  not  yet  gone  out  in  the  tower 
which  stands  upon  the  Mole,  when  we  swept 
into  the  harbor  and  came  to  anchor  amid  a  vast 
crowd  of  ships,  steamers  and  small  coasting  ves- 
sels.    It  was  a  magnificent  scene  which  burst 


GENOA.  189 

upon  our  vision.  Genoa  la  Superba  !  Genoa, 
the  city  of  palaces,  the  ancient  empress  of  the 
sea,  whose  merchants  were  princes,  and  her 
princes  merchants,  lay  before  us.  A  vast  am- 
phitheatre of  hills,  crowned  with  tasteful  villas, 
with  splendid  palaces,  with  glorious  temples, 
with  solid  ramparts,  and  with  hanging  gardens 
and  terraces,  where  the  orange  and  the  lime 
nourish,  rises  directly  from  the  sea,  while  be- 
yond it  the  glorious  Appenines,  in  all  their 
wondrous  grandeur,  lift  their  heads  towards  the 
clouds,  and  make  up  a  scene  of  unsurpassed 
magnificence.  Making  our  way  to  the  shore, 
through  a  throng  of  vessels,  we  find  ourselves 
well-provided  for  in  one  of  the  ancient  palaces, 
now  transformed  into  a  hotel. 

To  describe  Genoa  is  but  to  repeat  what  has 
already  been  said  of  Naples,  Rome  and  Florence- 
We  pass  through  the  same  endless  succession  of 
churches  and  palaces,  and  see  the  same  evi- 
dences of  Italian  genius  and  taste.  Most  of 
the  streets  are  exceedingly  narrow,  many  of  the 
great  thoroughfares  of  business  being  only  from 
eight  to  ten  feet  wide,  and  some  are  not  more 


190  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

than  six.  These  are  built  up  with  houses  six 
and  eight  stories  high,  and  are  so  crooked  and 
intricate  that  a  stranger  can  most  readily  lose 
his  way  in  them.  As  you  ascend  the  heights, 
however,  they  become  more  spacious,  and  pre- 
sent to  your  admiring  gaze  long  series  of  marine 
palaces,  which  have  for  generations  been  the 
homes  of  the  princes  of  Genoa. 

One  of  the  peculiar  features  of  the  city  is  the 
graceful  and  beautiful  attire  of  the  ladies,  who 
universally  wear  a  veil  thrown  over  their  heads, 
fastened  with  pins  to  their  glossy  hair,  and 
then  flowing  over  their  shoulders  to  the  waist. 
When  the  most  fashionable  portion  of  the 
female  population  appear  in  public  with  these 
veils  gathered  in  graceful  folds  over  their  black 
hair,  and  daintily  held  in  place  by  their  taper 
fingers,  they  have  a  most  charming  and  pic- 
turesque appearance  which  one  cannot  but 
admire. 

The  heights  around  Genoa  afford  many  rich 
and  magnificent  views.  You  stand  in  the  midst 
of  a  vast  and  glorious  panorama  of  hill  and 
mountain,  valley  and  city,  while  at  your  feet 


SARDINIA.  191 

are  the  countless  palaces,  villas  and  cathedrals, 
which  have  won  for  Genoa  the  title  of  the 
Superb.  But  we  cannot  linger  here.  Far 
away  to  the  north  stand  the  snow-clad  Alps, 
forming  an  eternal  barrier  between  Italy, 
France  and  Switzerland,  and  they  are  inviting 
us  to  their  cool  retreats  and  their  glorious 
altars,  which  have  been  built  without  hands, 
as  the  fitting  ornaments  for  the  temple  which 
God  has  made  for  Himself — a  temple  whose 
shining  arch  is  the  bright  heaven,  and  whose 
choral  music  is  the  murmur  of  the  winds,  the 
voice  of  the  waters,  and  the  roar  of  the  ava- 
lanche. 

Taking  the  cars  at  Genoa,  we  are  whirled 
away  over  the  plains  of  Sardinia,  where  every 
step  gives  us  the  assurance  that  the  country  is 
governed  by  a  man  whose  liberal  and  extend- 
ed views  are  leading  him  to  seek  the  highest 
welfare  of  his  people.  We  reach  Turin  at 
night,  and,  taking  the  omnibus  of  the  Hotel  de 
le  Bretagne,  ride  through  broad  and  beau- 
tiful streets,  well  paved  and  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated, to  the  very  heart  of  the  city,  near  the 


192  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

ancient  castle,  still  surrounded  by  its  deep  moat, 
but  now  used  as  the  General  Police  Office  of 
Piedmont.  Turin  contains  about  125,000  in- 
habitants, and  has  every  appearance  of  pros- 
perity. It  is  built  on  an  extended  plain,  upon 
the  northern  side  of  the  Po,  which  is  crossed 
by  several  fine  bridges.  It  contains  over  one 
hundred  churches,  many  of  which  are  remark- 
able for  their  decorations  and  the  splendor  of 
their  architecture.  The  royal  palace  is  one  of 
the  finest  in  Europe,  and,  besides  its  splendid 
paintings  and  statuary,  presents  the  most  per- 
fect arrangements  for  domestic  comfort  and 
enjoyment.  As  the  King  was  absent,  we  were 
permitted  to  visit  the  private  rooms  of  the 
royal  family,  which  are  fitted  up  with  the  most 
exquisite  taste,  and  appear  to  have  been  design- 
ed to  give  to  the  royal  inmates  everything 
which  art  and  taste  can  yield  to  make  for  them 
a  pleasant  home. 

One  of  the  marked  features  of  Turin  are  the 
vast  colonnades,  which  make  the  side-walks  a 
pleasant  resort,  either  in  the  heat  of  summer,  or 
the  rains  and  storms  of  winter.     Here,  beneath 


TURIN.  193 

these  long  arches,  extending  from  the  river  to 
the  castle,  and  branching  off  thence  into  streets 
which  are  built  upon  the  same  plan,  are  the 
great  marts  of  Piedmont,  filled  with  every  ar- 
ticle of  traffic,  and  crowded  with  citizens  or 
peasants,  with  their  quaint  and  antique  dresses, 
who  have  come  from  the  country  to  exchange 
their  produce  for  the  luxuries  which  the  city 
affords.  The  streets  of  Turin  present  the  usual 
contrasts  of  Italian  towns,  although  the  amount 
of  beggary  here  is  sensibly  diminished.  It  is 
doubtless  the  best  built  city  in  Europe.  The 
erection  of  its  buildings  is  not  left  to  private 
taste  and  caprice,  but  is  committed  to  an  officer, 
whose  assent  must  be  gained  before  a  single 
house  can  be  erected.  As  a  result  of  this,  the 
whole  town  is  uniform,  and  the  dwellings  are 
substantially  built.  Nothing  but  such  an  ar- 
rangement could  ever  have  produced  that  splen- 
did arcade,  of  which  I  have  just  spoken.  Here 
and  there,  throughout  the  city,  are  pleasant 
squares  or  piazzas,  which  add  not  only  to  its 
beauty,  but  are  also  greatly  promotive  of  its 
health. 


194  IMTRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

The  walks  and  drives  around  Turin  are  of 
great  beauty.  Crossing  the  Po  by  its  magnifi- 
cent bridge  of  marble  and  granite,  we  come  to 
a  range  of  hills  upon  which  stand  several 
churches  and  buildings,  presenting,  from  their 
elevation,  a  most  picturesque  appearance.  As 
we  look  across  the  plain,  westward  and  north- 
ward, the  whole  gigantic  chain  of  the  Alps  is 
before  us,  shadowing  away  in  the  distance,  but, 
nearer  at  hand,  shining  in  the  brilliant  light 
which  is  for  ever  reflected  from  their  eternal 
snows.  Here,  at  the  foot  of  these  stupendous 
mountains,  is  the  home  of  the  early  witnesses 
of  the  Truth  ;  and  towards  that  spot  we  turn, 
with  all  the  ardor  of  the  pilgrim  who  has  trav- 
elled long  and  far  to  stand  amid  the  scenes 
and  struggles  and  triumphs  of  the  Israel  of 
the  Alps.  Taking  the  cars  at  the  western  sub- 
urb of  Turin,  we  ride,  for  an  hour  and  a  half, 
through  a  beautiful  country,  well  cultivated,  and 
pleasantly  diversified  with  plain  and  hill  and 
gentle  streams,  and  luxuriant  with  olives,  figs 
and  the  mulberry.  Twenty  miles  from  Turin  is 
Pignerolo,  the  terminus  of  the  railroad,  lying 


PIGNEROLO.  195 

upon  hills  which  command  most  extensive  views. 
The  approach  to  the  city,  as  it  rises  upon  this 
noble  amphitheatre,  is  strikingly  beautiful.  For 
several  miles  the  main  avenue  is  lined  with  lux- 
uriant vines,  running  from  tree  to  tree.  From 
the  summit  of  a  gently  swelling  hill,  a  pictur- 
esque convent  peeps  out  from  the  midst  of  fig- 
trees  and  vineyards,  while  upon  a  terrace,  which 
overlooks  the  vast  plains  of  Piedmont,  stands  a 
lofty  and  imposing  cathedral. 

On  landing  at  the  station  we  found  that  the 
diligence  had  already  started  for  La  Tour,  and 
that  the  next  stage  would  not  leave  until  even- 
ing. After  looking  over  the  city,  with  its  many 
sad  symptoms  of  decay,  and  at  the  hotel,  the 
appearance  of  which  was  by  no  means  inviting, 
we  determined  to  charter  a  carnage  to  carry  us 
to  La  Tour,  some  seven  miles  distant.  We 
should  hesitate  some  time  before  using  such  a 
conveyance  in  this  city,  for  such  a  turn-out  is 
not  witnessed  every  day,  either  as  regards  horse, 
carriage,  or  postilion.  But  it  safely  conveyed 
us  through  a  country  growing  every  moment 
more  and  more  interesting,  until  the  valleys  of 


196  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Piedmont  were  readied,  and,  crossing  a  foam- 
ing torrent  which  came  down  from  the  Alpine 
snows,  we  entered  the  capital  of  the  Waldensian 
valleys.  It  was  a  most  grateful  relief  to  find 
ourselves  away  from  the  pomp  and  magnificence 
upon  which  we  had  so  long  been  gazing,  and 
resting  amid  the  quiet  beauty  of  this  hallowed 
spot.  It  was  a  pleasant  contrast  to  the  heat 
and  dust  of  the  city,  which  we  found  in  these 
glorious  hills  that  rose  above  us.  Nor  was  the 
utter  contrast  to  all  we  had  seen  in  Italy  com- 
plete until  we  entered  our  chamber  at  the  hotel, 
and  found  on  our  table  a  copy  of  the  Testament 
in  French  and  German — the  first,  except  our 
own  Bible,  which  we  had  met  with  in  Italy.  It 
was  a  token  that  we  were  passing  out  of  the 
terrible  shadows  of  priestly  traditions  into  the 
blessed  sunlight  of  the  Word  of  God. 

The  Waldensian  territory  embraces  a  space 
twenty-three  by  eighteen  miles,  having,  in  the 
mutations  of  centuries,  been  greatly  reduced 
from  its  original  limits.  It  lies  upon  the  south- 
eastern slope  of  that  vast  range  of  mountains 
which  divides  Italy  from  France  and  Savoy. 


LA    TOUR.  197 

Its  shape  is  triangular,  taking  the  ridges  of 
the  Alps  for  its  base.  Here,  among  one  of  the 
wildest  scenes  of  Nature,  nestle  the  smiling 
valleys  of  Piedmont,  the  homes  of  the  ancient 
Church  of  God,  the  witnesses  for  His  truth 
through  long  ages  of  corruption  and  darkness. 
La  Tour,  the  capital,  lies  within  the  valley  of 
Luzerne.  Just  at  the  entrance  to  the  village  is 
a  Roman  Catholic  church,  around  which  are  the 
usual  amount  of  beggars ;  beyond  stretches  a 
long  and  crooked  street,  with  no  pretensions 
whatever  to  architectural  beauties,  filled  with 
comfortable  houses,  built  with  stone,  and  most 
of  them  roofed  with  the  same  material.  Towards 
the  other  extremity  of  the  village  is  the  beau- 
tiful church,  erected  by  contributions  from 
England  and  America.  Near  by,  surrounded 
by  a  pleasant  green,  is  the  College,  a  plain,  sub- 
stantial edifice;  beyond  which  are  the  residences 
of  the  professors,  built  after  the  plainest  pos- 
sible models,  and  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 
primitive  simplicity  which  everywhere  prevails. 
In  the  rear  of  the  village  a  mountain  torrent 
goes  thundering  down,  to  add  its  waters  to  the 


198  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Po.  On  either  band  rise  the  steep  spurs  of  the 
Alpine  range,  far  up  whose  sides  are  the  stone 
cottages  of  the  Waldenses.  The  scenery  through- 
out this  valley  is  of  the  wildest  and  most  im- 
posing character.  As  you  advance  upwards 
from  La  Tour,  the  mountains  close  in  on  either 
hand,  until  the  valleys  become  mere  wild  ra- 
vines ;  yet,  in  the  most  rugged  portions  of  them 
may  be  seen  little  patches  of  grain  and  grass, 
in  the  midst  of  which  the  peasant  has  made  his 
home.  Nothing  can  exceed  in  beauty  and  ro- 
mance the  scenes  which  now  open,  with  some 
new  and  fresh  interest  at  every  turn.  Far  above 
you  rise  the  hoary  mountains,  placed  there  like 
watchful  sentinels  to  guard  the  repose  of  the 
simple-hearted  people  whose  homes  they  shelter. 
Wild  and  narrow  denies — foaming  torrents 
rushing  down  their  mountain  beds — peaceful 
lakelets,  embosomed  in  the  hills,  and  reflecting, 
like  polished  mirrors,  the  outlines  of  nature — 
and  meadows  of  unrivalled  beauty  and  fertility, 
form  a  contrast  of  awful  grandeur,  and  attrac- 
tive loveliness  and  grace.  Here  is  the  spot 
where  Christianity  found  a  home  amid  the  early 


THE    VAUDOIS.  199 

persecutions  of  the  cliurcli,  confirming  the 
Apocalyptic  vision  of  the  woman  fleeing  into 
the  wilderness  to  escape  the  dragon  which 
sought  to  destroy  herself  and  her  child. 

There  are  five  valleys  lying  between  these 
stupendous  ranges  of  hills,  mainly  converging 
at  La  Tour,  and  containing  a  population  of 
about  22,000,  of  whom  a  few  are  Roman  Catho- 
lics, who,  under  the  present  mild  and  paternal 
government  of  Sardinia,  are  prevented  from 
manifesting  that  ancient  hatred  which  for  ages 
made  this  country  the  scene  of  sore  and  bitter 
persecutions.  I  found  that  Dr.  Revel,  the  mode- 
rator of  the  Waldensian  Synod,  (to  whom  I  had 
letters,)  was  absent  at  Milan,  but  through  the 
kindness  of  his  excellent  wife  I  was  introduced 
to  several  of  the  professors,  and  to  Mr.  Charbon- 
nier,  the  acting  pastor  of  La  Tour.  The  morn- 
ing after  my  arrival  was  the  Sabbath,  the  day 
of  all  others  which  I  wished  to  spend  in  these 
valleys.  At  an  early  hour  I  walked  with  Prof. 
Thon  up  to  the  old  church  of  the  Copies,  one 
of  the  two  which  were  left  standing  when  the 
Vandois  returned  from  their  banishment  bv  the 


200  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Papal  authorities.  Leaving  the  streets  of  the 
village,  and  following  the  course  of  a  beautiful 
stream  which  comes  winding  down  from  the 
hills,  we  ascend  towards  those  gigantic  moun- 
tains, whose  peaks  stand  out  in  clear  and  well 
defined  outlines  against  the  sky.  Almost  above 
us,  upon  our  right,  is  the  bold  rock  of  Castel- 
luzzo,  memorable  during  the  persecutions  of 
the  Waldenses  as  a  natural  fortress,  to  whose 
summit  mothers  and  children  were  borne,  to  find 
refuge  from  the  assaults  of  their  merciless  ene- 
mies, and  froru  which  many  were  thrown  down 
and  perished.  Across  the  valley  rises  another 
Alpine  spur,  cultivated  almost  to  its  summit, 
while  before  us  loom  up  distant  peaks,  where 
clouds  and  storm  make  their  home,  and  amid 
whose  awful  solitudes  the  ea^le  builds  her  nest. 
It  was  a  most  interesting  sight  to  see  all  the 
avenues  and  paths  leading  to  the  church,  filled 
with  peasants  on  their  way  to  the  place  of  wor- 
ship. Venerable  patriarchs,  with  their  children 
and  their  children's  children,  were  walking  to- 
wards the  house  of  God.  Matrons  with  their 
daughters,  simply  and  neatly  attired,  and  with 


CHURCH    OF    COPIES.  201 

their  unique  head-dresses,  were  descending  the 
various  mountain  paths.  Strong  men  and  youth 
were  clambering  up  some  romantic  gorge,  all 
moved  by  one  impulse, — to  worship  the  God  of 
their  fathers.  As  they  met  each  other,  pleasant 
salutations  were  exchanged,  and  to  us  the  hat 
was  respectfully  lifted,  as  they  recognized  in  us 
strangers  from  a  distant  land. 

The  old  church  is  built  of  stone,  and  in  its 
entire  absence  of  all  ornament  offers  a  strange 
contrast  to  the  splendid  temples  which  we  had 
everywhere  seen  in  Italy.  But  never,  by  all  the 
pompous  services  we  had  seen  elsewhere,  were 
we  so  moved  as  by  the  simple  scene  which  there 
presented  itself.  Yes,  that  venerable  church, 
with  no  altars;  with  no  splendid  statuary  or 
paintings ;  with  no  throngs  of  robed  priests  and 
mitred  prelates ;  with  no  chant  swelling  up  amid 
the  light  that  comes  streaming  through  stained 
glass  and  gothic  windows;  with  no  organ  peals 
resounding  through  lofty  arches,  and  filling  the 
vast  space  with  glorious  music — yet  surpassed 
all  I  had  yet  visited,  in  its  thrilling  associations. 

What  is  St.  Peter's  when  contrasted  with  this 
10 


202  IMPRESSIONS    A1JT10AD. 

gigantic  temple,  built  without  hands,  which  for 
ao-es  lias  sheltered  the  Church  of  Christ  ?  "What 
were  all  its  pompous  services  to  the  simple,  de- 
vout, and  pious  utterances  of  a  people,  the  suc- 
cessors of  a  line  of  Christians  whose  history  goes 
back  to  the  early  dawn  of  Christianity  upon  the 
Italian  mountains? 

As  I  entered  the  humble  sanctuary,  I  took  a 
seat  near  the  pulpit  and  looked  over  the  large 
audience,  and  I  could  not  but  remark  the  entire 
contrast  which  was  presented,  to  the  pomp,  pa- 
geantry, and  childish  follies  upon  which  I  had 
been  looking  for  the  past  month.  The  people 
were  evidently  peasants  in  the  most  humble  cir- 
cumstances. As  the}"  entered  the  church,  each 
one  stood  for  a  moment  in  a  reverent  attitude, 
evidently  uttering  a  silent  prayer.  The  women 
were  seated  upon  one  side  of  the  church,  and 
the  men  upon  the  other.  The  service  began 
with  a  lesson  from  God's  Word,  read  by  the 
teacher  who  sits  below  the  pulpit,  and  who  also 
acts  the  part  of  a  precentor.  At  the  reading  of 
the  Law,  the  congregation  all  rise;  after  which 
the  minister,  dressed  in  a  simple  robe,  makes,  on 


WALDENSIAN    WORSHIP.  203 

behalf  of  the  people,  a  general  confession  of  sin. 
The  prayers  are  brief  but  comprehensive,  and 
are  mostly  read  from  a  published  form.  The 
music  is  congregational,  and  at  present  consists 
in  singing  the  Psalms,  without  any  attempt  at 
rythm  or  versification.  The  sermon,  by  Mr. 
Charbonnier,  was,  at  the  first  service,  a  simple 
exposition  of  a  portion  of  Scripture,  designed 
mainly  for  the  instruction  of  the  catechumens,  or 
youth  who  are  undergoing  a  course  of  prepara- 
tion for  the  communion. 

At  ten  o'clock,  a  second  service  was  held  in 
the  church  at  La  Tour,  a  large  and  pleasant  edi- 
fice, well  filled  with  a  serious  and  attentive  au- 
dience. A  group  of  nearly  300  children  were 
gathered  there  in  the  afternoon,  and  it  was  de- 
lightful to  see  the  interest  which  they  manifest- 
ed in  the  duties  of  the  hour,  the  readiness  with 
which  they  gave  scriptural  answers  to  the  ques- 
tions proposed,  and  the  happy  faculty  which 
their  pastor  possessed  of  enlisting  and  retaining 
their  attention.  In  the  evening  a  service  was 
held  with  the  children  at  the  Orphan  Asylum, 
which  consisted  of  some  simple  devotional  exer- 


204  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

cises,  and  a  brief  exposition  of  a  passage  of  the 
Word  of  God.  At  the  close  of  the  meeting,  I 
begged  the  teacher  to  let  them  sing  for  me  one 
song — "  La  Belle  Patrie"  (There  is  a  Happy 
Land)— and  so  they  gathered  around  the  door 
in  the  open  air,  and  sang  it  as  I  have  often  heard 
it  in  my  own  beloved  Sabbath-school  at  home. 
As  those  sweet  tones  died  away,  I  could  not 
help  trying  to  say  a  few  words  to  that  little 
group,  and  to  tell  them  that  I  had  come  from 
America  to  see  their  people,  and  that  my  sin- 
cere wish  for  them  was,  that  they  might  love 
the  Saviour,  who  took  little  children  in  His 
arms,  and  would  at  last  receive  all  who  trust 
Him,  in  that  "Happy  Land"  where  there 
would  be  no  sin  nor  sorrow. 

The  history  of  the  Waldenses  must  ever  ex- 
cite the  deepest  sympathy  and  interest  of  all 
who  love  the  Church  of  God.  They  were  for 
ages  the  witnesses  for  His  truth,  and  kept  alive 
a  pure  and  evangelical  religion,  when  all  the 
world  had  gone  after  the  lying  wonders  of  the 
Man  of  Sin.  Their  written  history  does  not  go 
back  beyond  the  tenth  or  eleventh  century ;  but 


WALDENSIAN    HISTORY.  205 

their  traditions  indicate  that  there  was  a  church 
amid  these  mountain  fastnesses  ages  before,  and 
that  during  the  times  of  persecutions,  the  people 
of  God  here  found  a  refuge  in  the  wilderness. 
As  the  Italian  Church  began  to  feel  the  grow- 
ing tendencies  to  corruption  in  the  increase  of 
priestly  power  and  splendor,  this  simple  people 
remained  unaffected  thereby,  and  kept  alive  the 
early  doctrines  and  institutions  of  Christianity. 
Shut  up  in  their  mountain  homes,  they  were 
satisfied  with  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel,  and 
desired  none  of  those  regal  forms  and  splendid 
ceremonies  which  were  taking  the  place  of  the 
truth  and  the  original  ordinances  of  Christ. 

Their  early  confessions,  and  especially  the 
"Noble  Lesson,"  show  that  their  creed  has  ever 
been  evangelical  and  pure.  How  the  Romish 
Church,  in  its  hatred  of  the  gospel,  has  fearfully 
and  bitterly  persecuted  this  people,  is  well  known. 
The  history  of  their  expulsion  from  the  valleys 
and  their  final  return,  is  familiar  to  all.  At  the 
Reformation  they  sent  two  delegates  to  have  an 
interview  with  the  Reformers,  and  when  they 
heard  what  was  their  design  and  their  creed, 


206  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

they  gave  them  a  hearty  "God  Speed!"  and 
the  right  hand  of  fellowship. 

Their  form  of  church  government  resembles 
that  of  the  Continental  Protestant  churches, 
being  essentially  Presbyterian.  There  are  about 
sixteen  congregations  in  the  valleys,  each  of 
them  being  governed  by  a  Consistory  composed 
of  the  pastor  and  elders,  who  are  represented 
and  united  in  a  Synod,  corresponding  to  the 
Presbytery  and  Classis  of  the  Scotch  and  Dutch 
churches.  The  executive  of  the  Synod  is  a 
Table,  or  Committee  of  ministers  and  laymen,  of 
which  body  Dr.  Revel  is  the  present  Moderator, 
having  been  recently  reappointed  by  the  Synod. 

The  Waldensian  church  evidently  has  for  its 
special  work  the  evangelization  of  Italy.  Al- 
ready a  number  of  missions  have  been  estab- 
lished, and  churches  built  at  several  important 
points,  and  the  Truth  is  making  its  way  with 
evident  success. 

The  present  King  of  Sardinia,  though  him- 
self a  Roman  Catholic,  gives  ample  protection 
to  the  Vaudois,  although  they  are  not  left  with- 
out  evidences  of  the  bitter  hatred  which  the 


THE    VAUDOIS.  207 

Papal  priesthood  cherishes  towards  them,  and 
of  the  jealousy  with  which  their  movements  are 
regarded.  Yet  the  restrictions  which  were  once 
laid  upon  them  are  greatly  mitigated,  and  the 
heavy  penalties,  which  prevented  any  effort  for 
the  evangelization  of  Italy,  are  almost  entirely 
removed. 

The  Vaudois  are  in  every  respect  a  wonder- 
ful people.  Though  mostly  j^oor,  no  beggars 
are  seen  among  them.  The  peasants  live  high 
up  among  the  mountains,  cultivating  every  avail- 
able spot  of  ground,  and  living  in  the  most  sim- 
ple and  frugal  style.  Although  depending 
mostly  upon  foreign  benefactions  for  the  sup- 
port of  their  ministry  and  educational  institu- 
tions, they  yet  give  of  their  poverty  for  the 
missionary  work,  and  regard  themselves  as  es- 
pecially designed  of  Providence  to  spread  the 
truth  in  Italy.  For  this  purpose  they  have 
established  a  college,  in  which  about  100  youth 
are  receiving  an  education,  and  have,  mainly 
through  the  benevolence  of  American  Chris- 
tians, endowed  a  theological  faculty  for  the  pur- 
pose of  fitting  young  men  for  the  ministry. 


'20S  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

The  college  stands  at  the  entrance  to  the  val- 
ley, looking  out  upon  the  mountains  which  have 
been  for  ages  the  retreat  of  the  Church  of  God, 
and  the  shelter  of  His  persecuted  people.  In 
yonder  Roman  Catholic  village  stands  the 
old  nunnery  which  tradition  connects  with 
many  a  tale  of  persecution  and.  death.  Every 
hill  has  a  voice  and  a  story,  and  tells  of  fearful 
trials  endured,  for  a  testimony  to  the  truth. 
Here,  amid  these  scenes  and  memories,  the  Vau- 
dois  youth  can  prepare  for  the  work  of  the  min- 
istry, and,  stimulated  by  the  wonderful  history 
of  their  people,  can  quietly  pass  through  the 
necessary  preparations  for  the  duties  before 
them,  and  fit  themselves  to  carry  forth  the  truth 
which  their  fathers  loved,  and  for  which  many 
yielded  up  their  lives.  From  this  spot  they 
will  go  forth  to  meet  the  coming  wants  of  Italy  ; 
and,  as  the  people,  tired  and  disgusted  with  the 
mummeries  of  Popery,  shall  desire  to  know  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  they  will  hear  it  from 
the  lips  of  a  ministry  which  is  truly  Apostolic, 
and  from  a  Church  wdiich  has  never  been 
"reformed,"  because  never  corrupted. 


X. 

THE    AL  PS. 

IT  was  a  day  of  intense  heat  in  which  we  bade 
adieu  to  Turin  and  to  Italy,  and  turned  our 
faces  towards  those  glorious  Alpine  peaks  which, 
in  solemn  grandeur,  rose  before  us.  The  usual 
annoyances  of  visas  to  our  passports  were  to  be 
undergone;  the  Swiss  consul  was  to  be  con- 
sulted, and  his  consent  to  our  passage  into 
Switzerland  obtained;  permission  of  the  police 
was  to  be  had  for  our  leaving  Turin,  and  then 
places  were  to  be  secured  in  the  cars  and  dili- 
gence for  Geneva.  It  was  no  small  tax  upon  our 
patience,  after  attending  to  all  these  prelimina- 
ries, to  await  the  time  of  the  officials  at  the  sta- 
tion ;  to  have  ever}7  article  of  baggage  weighed, 
marked,  and  taxed,  and  then  for  almost  an  hour 
to  look  for  the  return  of  the  omnibus  which  was 
to  convey  us  to  the  railway.  We  were  not 
10* 


210  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

sorry  for  any  little  by-play  to  occupy  our 
thoughts,  and  we  watched,  with  uncommon  in- 
terest, the  movements  of  a  party  of  street- 
acrobats,  who,  laying  down  a  carpet  and 
spring-board,  performed  sundry  grotesque  gym- 
nastic feats.  As  chairs  were  very  scarce,  my 
friend  Rogers  and  myself  improvised  seats  for 
the  ladies  of  our  party  from  piles  of  port-man- 
teaus,  carpet-bags,  and  shawls,  while  he  and  I 
stretched  ourselves  upon  the  pavement,  present- 
ing quite  an  oriental  appearance  to  the  passers- 
by,  and,  on  the  whole,  taking  matters  pretty 
much  at  our  ease.  Just  as  the  omnibus  arrived 
for  its  load,  one  of  our  party,  from  Rome— the 
lady  with  six  immense  travelling-trunks — drove 
up  with  her  courier,  having  decided  to  honor  us 
with  her  company  over  the  Alps.  For  a  time 
there  appeared  to  be  every  prospect  that  the 
cars  would  be  half-way  to  Susa  before  our  load 
should  arrive  at  the  station;  but  with  the  aid  of 
porters  and  officers,  and  amid  a  great  many  not 
very  elegant  Italian  oaths,  we  were  finally  dis- 
posed of,  lady  and  all,  and  arrived  in  time  to 
secure  our  places. 


SUSA.  211 

The  cars  on  this  road  are  exceedingly  com- 
fortable, and  our  way  led  through  a  country 
which  grew  every  moment  more  wild  and  in- 
teresting. On  the  one  hand  was  the  foaming 
torrent  of  the  Dora,  fed  by  the  snows  of  the 
Alps,  rushing  down  to  join  the  Po  at  Turin,  and 
then  to  become  a  highway  for  commerce,  and  to 
flow  by  fifty  cities  ere  it  reached  the  Mediter- 
ranean. On  the  other  hand  were  mountains, 
pressing  more  and  more  upon  the  road,  until 
at  Susa  they  made  further  progress  by  rail  im- 
practicable,— and  we  came  to  the  foot  of  Mount 
Cenis,  through  whose  wild  passes  we  were  to  find 
our  way  to  Switzerland. 

Here  we  found  a  large  encampment  of  French 
soldiers — their  white  tents  shining  in  the  clear 
light  of  the  full  moon,  which  was  riding  glori- 
ously through  the  heavens  and  giving  almost 
the  distinctness  of  day  to  every  object  around 
us.  As  the  cars  arrive,  everything  around  the 
station  is  full  of  life  and  bustle.  Three  large 
diligences  are  awaiting  their  loads  of  passen- 
gers and  baggage;  conductors  and  agents  are 
reading  off  the  names  of  the  passengers,  and  as- 


212  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

signing  to  each  one  his  proper  place ;  hungry 
people  are  running  into  the  refreshment  rooms 
to  lay  in  a  supply  for  the  night's  travel;  others 
are  arranging  their  overcoats  and  shawls  for  use 
in  the  anticipated  cold  of  the  mountain  passes; 
long  ladders  are  placed  to  the  top  of  the  dili- 
gences, upon  which  men  are  busily  engaged  in 
packing  away  huge  piles  of  trunks,  among  which 
are  the  small  Saratoga  houses  of  our  lady  fellow- 
traveller,  and  about  which  she  is  giving  her  cou- 
rier a  most  sound  rating — for  she  well  knew 
how  to  scold:  name  after  name  is  called  off,  to 
which  some  person  answers,  steps  out,  and  takes 
the  place  assigned  him  by  the  conductor.  Three 
of  us  mount  to  the  banquette,  the  only  place 
which  could  be  obtained  for  love  or  money,  and 
which  is,  after  all,  the  place  in  a  diligence  for 
mountain  travel.  And  perhaps  I  had  better 
pause  here,  to  describe  a  diligence.  It  is  a  huge, 
lumbering  vehicle,  containing  some  four  or  five 
compartments.  The  coupe,  the  most  aristocratic 
and  high-priced,  which  will  hold  three  or  four 
persons,  is  in  the  front;  the  interieur,  which  will 
contain  some  seven  or  eight  passengers,  is  back 


DILIGENCE     RIDING.  213 

of  this;  the  rotonde  is  in  the  rear,  and  the  ban- 
quette, which  is  generally  considered  the  worst 
of  the  four,  is  above  the  coupe.  We  took  the 
banquette,  for  it  was  Hobson's  choice  with  us — 
either  that  or  nothing. 

Twelve  mules  are  attached  to  this  vast  ma- 
chine, with  its  ship-load  of  passengers  and  bag- 
gage ;  the  conductor  ascends  to  our  side,  where 
he  can  direct  the  whole  and  manage  the  brakes; 
two  postilions,  in  their  monkey-jackets,  mount 
upon  their  saddles,  and  with  a  shout  and  crack 
of  the  whip,  the  word,  uen  route,  postilion"  is 
given,  and  we  begin  the  ascent  of  the  Alps. 
There  is  an  air  of  romance  about  a  diligence 
ride  up  these  mountains  which  makes  it  ex- 
ceedingly attractive.  The  wild  songs  and 
shouts  of  the  postilions,  with  the  incessant  ac- 
companiment of  the  crack  of  the  whip,  as  they 
urge  their  mules  along  these  steep  acclivities ; 
the  loud  roar  of  the  Alpine  torrent  as  it  rolls 
and  thunders  by  ;  the  excitement  which  attends 
the  passage  of  some  tremendous  abyss,  which 
shrinks  away  from  your  feet  into  almost  un- 
fathomable depths,  while  on  the  other  side  a 


21-4  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

mountain  spur,  with  its  sharp  and  bold  outlines, 
stands  up  like  a  giant  to  dispute  your  progress ; 
the  intense  delight  with  which  some  new  and 
majestic  feature  of  the  mountains  is  welcomed ; 
the  solemn  and  awful  grandeur  of  these  mighty 
hills  that  rise  up  to  the  clouds,  all  combine  to 
give  to  the  traveller  a  pleasure  that  no  work  of 
art  could  ever  produce.  These  are  the  solemn 
altars  of  the  temple  which  was  built  with- 
out hands,  and  whose  choral  echo  is  the  uni- 
verse. 

Occasionally  a  train  of  baggage  passes  us,  or 
small,  straggling  companies  of  soldiers ;  or  a 
muleteer,  with  his  load,  goes  singing  and  shout- 
ing by.  Here  and  there  a  small  hamlet  indi- 
cates the  existence  of  hardy  mountaineers,  who 
are  improving  the  last  foothold  of  vegetable  life ; 
or  a  hospice  or  hostelry  is  planted  by  the  road- 
side, for  the  assistance  of  wayworn  and  weary 
travellers. 

I  cannot  forget,  though  I  cannot  well  ex- 
press, the  emotions  I  felt  when,  ou  awaking 
from  a  short  sleep,  just  in  the  grey  of  the  morn- 
ing, I  looked  upward  and  saw,  high  above  us, 


AN     ALPINE     PASS.  215 

the  lofty  peaks  of  the  Alps,  covered  with  per- 
petual snows.  The  cold  had  now  so  increased 
that  every  shawl  and  overcoat  was  in  demand, 
although  it  was  the  middle  of  the  month  of 
July.  The  air  was  sharp  and  clear,  and,  as  the 
day  dawned,  the  scene  which  opened  before  us 
was  one  of  awful  grandeur.  On  every  hand 
rose  high  and  rugged  peaks,  gleaming  in  the 
light  of  the  morning  sun.  Here  and  there, 
vast  gullies,  cut  in  the  mountain-side,  marked 
the  track  of  an  avalanche ;  while  upon  the 
hill-side  of  the  road  were  occasional  excava- 
tions made  as  places  of  safety  when  the  rocks 
and  snows  of  the  mountain  are  making  their  an- 
nual descent  to  the  valley.  Near  the  summit 
of  Mount  Cenis,  six  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  twenty-five  feet  above  the  sea,  stands  an  old 
hospice,  originally  founded  by  Charlemagne,  in 
the  ninth  century,  when  crossing  this  pass  with 
his  army.  The  present  edifice  was  built  by 
Napoleon  I.,  a  part  of  which  is  occupied  by  a 
corps  of  soldiers,  and  the  rest  by  Benedictine 
monks,  who  reside  here  that  they  may  aid  the 
weary  and  benighted  traveller. 


216  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

• 

At  this  point  the  scenery  is  sublime.  Deep 
valleys,  and  feaiful  ravines,  through  which 
wild  mountain  torrents  are  foaming,  spring 
away  from  our  side,  down  to  almost  inter- 
minable depths.  The  beautiful  scenery  of 
Italy  has  been  exchanged  for  the  wild  and 
rugged  grandeur  of  the  mountains.  The  olive 
and  the  vine  have  long  since  disappeared. 
Here  and  there  are  small  patches  of  grass,  amid 
which  stands  the  chalet  of  the  mountaineer, 
where  his  cows  are  grazing,  while  still  higher 
hi-  goats  are  cropping  the  herbage  which 
forces  its  way  up  between  the  rocks.  The  road, 
as  it  winds  by  these  tremendous  ravines,  with 
its  zigzag  course,  often  lies  upon  the  very  verge, 
so  that  the  brain  almost  whirls  as  we  look  down 
and  think  what  would  be  the  result  of  a  single 
mistake  in  directing  the  diligence,  or  of  the 
slightest  accident  to  our  ponderous  vehicle. 
Along  the  way  there  are  built,  at  intervals, 
Houses  of  Refuge,  where  live  the  cantormiers, 
who  are  engaged  in  mending  the  road  and  in 
aiding  the  needy.  From  the  post,  on  the  sum- 
mit of  Mt.  Cenis,  to  Lans-Le-Bourg,  the  peasants 


LANS-LE-BOURG.  217 

use  sledges,  in  the  winter,  when  the  snow  has 
filled  up  the  ravines,  and  by  this  means  they 
descend  the  mountain  in  about  ten  minutes, 
passing  over  a  distance  that  requires  from  two 
to  three  hours  to  ascend. 

As  we  pass  downward,  through  scenes  of  the 
grandest  and  wildest  character,  we  find,  high 
above  one  of  the  gorges,  a  strong  and  well-built 
fortress,  whose  batteries  command  the  passage 
to  Italy.  A  beautiful  bridge,  hanging  high  in 
the  air,  and  connecting  the  fort  with  the  road, 
has  the  expressive  name  of  the  Pont  du  Diable, 
or  the  Devil's  Bridge.  Lans-Le-Bourg,  at  the  foot 
of  Mt.  Cenis,  is  the  first  Swiss  town  with  which 
we  meet.  It  is  a  long,  straggling  village,  with 
only  one  principal  street,  exceedingly  narrow 
and  filthy,  and  filled  with  numerous  cabarets, 
which  furnish  a  breakfast  of  coffee,  hard  bread, 
and  a  pipe  of  tobacco.  As  the  road  winds 
down  from  this  point — which,  although  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  is  four  thousand  four 
hundred  feet  above  the  sea  level — it  opens 
upon  i  most  beautiful  and  romantic  gorge,  in 
which  lies  the  vallev  of  St.  Michael,  where  com- 


218  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

meiices  the  tunnel  under  the  Alps,  which  is  to 
connect  France  and  Italy  by  a  passage  nine 
miles  long. 

At  St.  Jean  de  Maurienne  we  leave  the  lum- 
bering diligence,  and  are  hurried  by  cars  through 
beautiful  scenes,  by  lakes  and  livers,  cataracts, 
mountains,  plains,  and  valleys,  until  we  arrive 
at  the  city  of  Geneva,  situated  upon  the  lake 
whose  name  it  bears.  This  city,  containing 
about  32,000  inhabitants,  stands  just  at  the  foot 
of  the  lake,  where  the  blue  waters  of  the  ar- 
rowy Rhone  sweep  toward  the  valleys  of  France. 
A  substantial  bridge  connects  the  two  portions 
of  the  city,  which  lies  upon  the  slope  of  two 
hills,  divided  by  the  Rhone.  As  seen  from  the 
lake,  Geneva  presents  an  exceedingly  beautiful 
appearance.  Along  the  banks  is  a  fine  street 
or  quay,  and  a  beautiful  public  garden  has 
been  laid  out,  and  forms  an  exceedingly  de- 
sirable promenade  on  a  warm  evening.  The 
city  is  divided  into  lower  and  upper  towns, 
somewhat  like  Edinburgh.  Standing  at  the 
window  of  our  hotel,  we  have  a  view  far  up  the 
lake,  dotted  here  and  there  with  the  white  la- 


GENEVA.  219 

teen  sails  of  passing  vessels.  In  the  distance  is 
the  noble  range  of  the  Jura  mountains,  stretch- 
ing away  to  the  south  and  west.  If  we  walk 
across  the  bridge  at  sunset,  we  have  a  splendid 
view  of  the  Mont  Blanc  range,  amid  which  the 
hoary  monarch  of  the  mountains  lifts  his  awful 
head  to  the  clouds.  It  is  amid  these  two  ranges 
that  Byron  lays  the  scene  of  the  storm  which 
he  has  so  wonderfully  and  graphically  described  • 

Far  along, 

From  peak  to  peak  the  rattling-  crags  among, 
Leaps  the  live  thunder !     Not  from  one  lone  cloud, 
But  every  mountain  now  has  found  a  tongue, 
And  Jura  answers,  through  her  misty  shroud, 
Back  to  the  joyous  Alps,  who  call  to  her  aloud  I 

The  city  of  Geneva  owes  its  chief  interest  to 
its  having  been  the  home  of  Calvin.  Here,  when 
leaving  France,  he  was  met  by  the  Reformers, 
who  compelled  him  to  remain  among  them. 
Here  he  wrote  his  great  theological  works,  and 
accomplished  an  amount  of  varied  labor  which 
broke  down  his  health  at  an  early  age.  The 
old  cathedral  of  St.  Peter's,  the  edifice  in  which 
he  preached,  is  still  in  the  possession  of  the  es- 
tablished church,  and  a  portion  of  the  pulpit  is 


220  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

pointed  out  as  the  old  desk  at  which  he  uttered 
the  glorious  truths  of  the  gospel.  His  grave 
has  nothing  to  distinguish  it,  save  a  stone  with 
the  initials  J.  C. 

One  of  the  pleasantest  excursions  from 
Geneva  is  a  sail  down  the  beautiful  lake  upon 
which  the  city  stands.  It  is  about  forty  miles 
long,  lying  1142  feet  above  the  sea  level, 
and  is  of  most  exquisite  beauty,  its  scenery 
possessing  the  charms  of  almost  endless  variety. 
As  the  steamer  turns  upwards  from  Geneva,  the 
magnificent  summits  of  Mt.  Blanc,  fifty  miles 
distant,  are  distinctly  seen,  while  along  the 
shores  of  the  lake  are  lovely  villas,  picturesque 
churches,  and  thriving  towns  and  watering- 
places.  Near  the  end  of  the  lake  stands  the 
castle  of  Chillon,  an  old  feudal  fortress,  whose 
interior  presents  a  fine  idea  of  the  rough  and 
rugged  times  in  which  it  was  built.  Here  is 
laid  the  scene  of  Byron's  "  Prisoner  of  Chillon." 
The  castle  stands  upon  an  isolated  rock,  and  was 
built  in  the  year  1238,  as  a  State  Prison.  Here, 
for  six  years,  Bonnivard,  who  had  sought  the 
freedom  of  Geneva,  was  confined  in  a  dungeon 


CHILLON.  221 

just  at  the  level  of  the  lake.  The  ring  to  which 
he  was  chained  is  still  there.  Near  by,  the  beam 
which  once  served  as  a  gallows  for  the  condemn- 
ed prisoners  is  seen,  while,  in  another  part  of 
the  castle,  is  a  small  staircase,  which  terminates 
in  a  fearful  well,  eighty  feet  deep,  down  which 
many  a  victim  was  hurled,  and  so  disappeared 
from  the  world  forever.  No  wonder  that  the 
poet  writes  of  this  spot : 

"  Chillon  !   thy  prison  is  an  holy  place, 
And  thy  sad  floor  an  altar,  for  'twas  trod 
Until  his  very  steps  had  left  a  trace 
Worn,  as  if  the  cold  pavement  were  a  sod,  ■ 
By  Bonnivard:  may  none  these  marks  efface, 
For  they  appeal  from  tyranny  to  God." 

Early  in  the  week  the  diligence,  in  which  our 
places  had  been  taken  several  days  before,  drove 
out  of  the  city  of  Geneva  for  the  vale  of  Cha- 
mouny,  fifty  miles  distant.  Our  route  lay 
through  an  exceedingly  picturesque  country. 
At  the  town  of  Anemasse  we  enter  Savoy,  where 
our  passports  are  examined,  and  the  baggage 
taken  down  and  inspected.  As  we  continue  to 
ascend,  unmistakable  evidences  of  our  approach 
to  the  Alpine  regions  abound.     The  stream  that 


222  IMPRESSIONS    ABEOAD. 

rushes  by  us  becomes  more  turbulent  and  rapid, 
and  the  worn  and  whitened  rocks  show  traces 
of  the  winter's  flood,  and  are  an  indisputable 
proof  of  its  power.  As  we  advance  toward  the 
mountains,  the  scenery  becomes  more  wild  and 
awful.  Huge  precipices  frown  above  us,  and  at 
our  feet  lie  vast  and  dark  ravines.  Bold  moun- 
tain peaks  stand  up  in  clear  relief  against  the 
sky.  Vast  rugged  rocks  lie  in  the  deep  defiles, 
whither  they  have  fallen  from  their  native 
ledges  in  the  hills  above.  At  Sallenche  we 
pause  for  dinner,  which  we  prefer  to  eat  under 
the  porch  of  the  hotel,  that  we  may  enjoy,  un- 
interruptedly, the  magnificent  scene  which  now 
opens  to  view.  Just  across  the  river  is  a  noble 
range  of  precipitous  hills,  rising  into  huge  cliffs, 
which  are  called  "  needles,"  affording  a  beautiful 
contrast  to  the  Forclaz,  with  its  sides  covered 
with  pines  and  its  top  with  pasturage.  At  our 
feet  lies  a  deep  gorge,  while  above  and  beyond 
all,  Mont  Blanc,  still  twelve  miles  distant,  but 
appearing  near  at  hand,  lifts  its  majestic  head 
above  the  clouds,  and  shines  in  the  splendor  of 
an  unclouded  day.     Yet  even  here,  amid  these 


CRETINS.  ZZ6 

glorious  creations  of  the  Almighty,  one  is  coni- 
pelled  to  witness  poverty  and  degradation. 
Crowds  of  beggars  surround  the  hotel,  and  fol- 
low the  carriage,  nearly  all  of  them  afflicted 
with  that  shocking  disease  of  the  Alps,  the 
goitre,  and  many  of  them  being  idiots  of  the 
very  lowest  character.  The  goitre  is  a  large 
excrescence  upon  the  neck,  and  it  is  more  fre- 
quent with  women  than  with  men.  Although 
a  horrible  deformity,  it  is  said  to  be  attended 
with  no  pain.  This  disease  is  very  common  in 
the  Alps.  But  even  these  sufferers  are  nothing 
to  the  Cretins.  The  Cretin  is  a  vacant  and 
hopeless  idiot,  whose  huge  head,  shrivelled 
limbs,  inarticulate  words,  distorted  features, 
meaningless  face,  and  staring  eyes,  present  a 
spectacle  which,  once  seen,  can  never  be  forgot- 
ten. I  shall  never  forget  two  whom  I  saw,  father 
and  son.  The  sou  was  blind,  deaf,  and  dumb, 
and  just  able  to  stand,  and  both  were  in  the 
most  horrid  and  abject  poverty. 

At  Sallenche  the  diligence  is  exchanged  for 
a  char-a-banc.  This  vehicle  is  simply  an  old, 
rickety,  broken-* 'town,  rheumatic  and  most  un- 


224  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

comfortable  two-horse  carriage.  In  our  case  it 
was  rendered  still  more  uncomfortable  by  the 
presence  of  a  very  queer  sort  of  passenger,  who 
occupied  the  fourth  seat,  and  whose  room 
would  have  been  infinitely  preferable  to  his 
company.  He  made  all  sorts  of  strange  antics, 
and  put  himself  in  most  uncouth  positions,  wind- 
ing up  by  sitting  on  the  top  of  the  carriage 
and  dangling  his  feet  in  our  faces,  and  this 
while  the  vehicle  was  on  the  edge  of  the  preci- 
pice, leaning  over  it  until  one  almost  anticipated 
a  headlong  fall.  The  ride  from  Sallenche  to 
Chamouny  is  about  fourteen  miles  by  measure- 
ment, although  it  is,  probably,  fifty  miles  in 
feeling.  But  the  scenery  well  repays  us  for  the 
fatigue.  Some  magnificent  views  may  be  ob- 
tained by  leaving  the  carriage  and  turning  a 
little  aside  from  the  main  path.  One  of  these 
is  peculiarly  grand.  From  a  slight  elevation 
above  the  road,  the  eye  takes  in  a  magnificent 
panorama,  presenting  an  Alpine  scene  of  inde- 
scribable wildness  and  rugged  grandeur.  Down 
a  dark  and  awful  gorge,  filled  with  vast  masses 
of  rock,  which  have  been  gathering  there  for 


ALPINE    SCENERY.  225 

ages,  roll  the  foaming  waters  of  the  Arve,  bear- 
ing down  with  it  the  fine  sand  which  has  been 
worn  away  from  the  Alps  by  the  action  of  the 
glaciers  upon  them.  Beyond  this  rise  huge  and 
rocky  peaks,  desolate  and  barren,  blackened  by 
the  storms  of  centuries.  Far  away  in  the  dis- 
tance are  smiling  valleys  and  plains,  while  here 
and  there  around  us  are  the  rude  chalets  of  the 
hardy  Savoyards,  and  groups  of  peasants,  busy 
in  gathering  in  their  mountain  harvest  of  grain 
and  grass ;  while  children  are  busy  turning  the 
new-mown  hay,  and  women  are  bearing  it  home 
upon  their  heads  in  huge  bundles. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  day  we  ascend  the 
last  hill  which  lies  between  us  and  Chamouny, 
and,  coming  to  a  sudden  turn  of  the  road,  see 
at  one  glance  the  beautiful  valley,  with  the 
vast  glaciers  which  lie  down  upon  its  very 
verge,  mingling  the  snows  and  ice  of  winter 
with  the  luxuriance  of  summer.  The  spot 
where  we  are  standing  is  called  the  Montets,  a 
steep  and  stony  ascent,  from  which  we  obtain 
fine  views  of  the  enormous  peak  of  Mont  Blanc. 
As  we  pass  the  glaciers  which  come  down  to. 
11 


226  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  valley,  we  observe  the  furious  torrents 
which  descend  from  them,  and  which  are  form- 
ed by  the  constant  melting  of  the  ice  in  the 
intense  heat  of  the  sun.  The  village  of  Cha- 
mouny,  which  lies  in  the  valley,  is  a  collection  of 
Swiss  chalets,  cottages,  and  fine  hotels,  with  the 
ordinary  bustle  of  a  watering-place.  It  is  sur- 
rounded by  the  vast  ranges  of  the  Alps,  which 
spring  up  on  either  hand,  leaving  between  them 
only  a  narrow  strip  of  land  susceptible  of  culti- 
vation, and  affording  many  very  good  spots  for 
farming  purposes.  The  river  Arve  flows  through 
it,  and  even  here,  within  a  few  miles  of  its 
source,  is  a  wild,  deep  and  furious  stream. 

I  need  not  say  how  sweet  was  the  sleep 
which  followed  a  fatiguing  ride  of  fifty  miles, 
with  long,  toilsome  walks  up  steep  hills,  where 
walking  even  was  some  relief  to  the  miseries  of 
a  wretched  char-a-banc.  But  with  the  early 
dawn  I  was  awake  and  a^tir  to  obtain  my  first 
daylight  view  of  Mont  Blanc.  I  was  at  length 
in  that  spot  which  had  formed  the  subject  of 
many  a  delicious  reverie.  In  all  my  thoughts 
of  Europe,  Chamouny  was  a  word  which  called 


SUNRISE    AT    CHAMOUNY.  227 

up  scenes  and  visions  of  beauty  which  I  knew 
must  abundantly  repay  the  toil  with  which  the 
valley  was  to  be  visited ;  and  now,  as  I  looked 
around,  I  felt  that,  truly,  the  half  had  not  been 
told. 

What  were  all  the  palaces  and  works  of  art 
to  the  scene  which  now  burst  upon  our  sight  ? 
What  were  all  the  temples  of  Italy  to  this  gor- 
geous temple,  built  by  Him  who  settethfast  the 
mountains  ? 

"  Above  me  are  the  Alps, 
The  palaces  of  Nature,  whose  vast  walls 
Have  pinnacled  in  cloud  their  snowy  scalps, 
And  throned  Eternity  in  icy  halls 
Of  cold  sublimity,  where  forms  and  falls 
The  avalanche,  the  thunderbolt  of  snow ! 
All  that  expands  the  spirit,  yet  appalls, 
Gathers  around  these  summits,  as  to  show 
How  Earth  may  pierce  to  Heaven,  and  leave  vain  man  below-'' 

I  took  a  position  whence  I  could  see  the 
awful  summit  of  Mont  Blanc  rising  above  the 
sea  to  the  height  of  15,760  feet !  As  the  day 
dawned,  its  first  faint  light  rested  upon  the  top 
of  this  monarch  of  the  mountains.  Gradually 
the  shadows  which  were  yet  lying  upon  the 
hills    and   valleys    disappeared,  bringing  more 


228  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

and  more  distinctly  into  view  the  outlines  of  the 
magnificent  panorama  which  lay  around  us.  At 
length  one  bright  ray  of  sunlight  rested  upon 
the  head  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  then  other  points 
were  rapidly  illuminated,  and  their  long  shad- 
ows fell  upon  the  more  distant  smnmits,  un- 
til at  length  every  peak  was  gleaming  in  the 
morning  light,  and  day  broke  upon  the  moun- 
tains. That  sight,  which  I  had  so  long  antici- 
pated, I  shall  not  soon  forget.  Its  wondrous 
beauty  will  be  a  "joy  forever.1' 

As  I  stood  gazing  upon  it,  the  words  of 
Coleridge,  written  in  the  vale  of  Chamouny,  and 
which,  from  boyhood,  had  made  me  desirous  to 
look  upon  these  scenes,  were  recalled  with  all 
their  power  and  beauty,  as  a  fit  utterance  of  the 
emotions  which  were  swelling  within  me. 

"  Hast  thou  a  charm  to  stay  the  morning  star 
In  his  steep  course,  so  long  he  seems  to  pause 
On  thy  bald,  awful  bead,  0  '  sovran  Blanc  ?  ' 

0  dread  and  silent  mount,  I  gazed  upon  thee 
Till  thou,  still  present  to  the  bodily  sense, 

Didst  vanish  from  my  thoughts — entranced  in  prayer 

1  worshipped  the  Invisible  alone. 

"  Thou,  too,  hoar  Mount !  with  thy  sky-pointing  peaks. 
Rose  like  a  cloud  of  incense  from  the  earth ! 
Thou  kingly  Spirit,  throned  among  the  hills ! 


MER    DE    GLACE.  229 

Thou  dread  Ambassador  from  Earth  to  Heaven  I 
Great  Hierareh  !  tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 
And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun, 
Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God  !  " 

From  this  glorious  scene  I  turned  away,  to 
make  preparations  for  an  excursion  to  the  Mer 
de  Glace.  After  an  early  breakfast,  our  mules 
were  at  the  door,  and  we  set  off  in  the  saddle 
with  two  excellent  guides.  Crossing  the  roar- 
ing river  by  a  substantial  bridge,  and  shortly 
after  the  Avernon,  by  a  more  primitive  structure, 
we  soon  began  to  ascend  an  almost  precipitous 
mountain  by  a  small  mule-pass  cut  in  its 
side,  and  which  winds  up  by  a  zigzag  route, 
across  the  tracks  of  avalanches,  amid  huge  and 
ragged  rocks,  by  the  rustic  chalets  of  the  moun- 
taineers, and  often  on  the  very  verge  of  tre- 
mendous ravines  and  precipices  that  start  away 
from  our  feet,  and  almost  make  the  head  dizzy 
with  the  sight  of  their  fearful  depths.  After  a 
ride  of  about  three  hours  we  reach  an  elevation 
of  over  five  thousand  feet,  and  turning  around 
the  angle  of  a  rustic  hostelry,  our  enthusiastic 
guides  shout,  "  Voila  la  Mer  de  Glace  !  "  and  the 
wondrous  scene  is  before  us.     This  glacier  lies 


230  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

in  one  of  the  valleys  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  is  fed 
by  the  eternal  snows  upon  its  summit.  It  is 
about  twelve  miles  long  by  from  half  a  mile  to 
a  mile  and  a  half  broad,  and  the  ice,  broken  up 
into  thousands  of  hummocks,  and  opening  as 
many  fearful  chasms,  is  supposed  to  be  from 
two  to  seven  hundred  feet  thick.  As  it  pro- 
ceeds downward  with  a  daily  motion  of  about 
fourteen  inches,  it  carries  with  it  the  rocks  of 
the  mountain,  which  are  ground  to  powder  in 
the  passage,  and  are  carried  away  by  the  waters 
of  the  Avernon,  which  issue  from  a  dark  cavern 
at  the  foot  of  the  glacier.  Far  up  on  either  side 
are  sharp  and  bold  peaks  of  rock,  called  aiguilles, 
or  needles,  which  form  a  decided  and  beautiful 
feature  of  this  whole  Alpine  range,  and  which 
are  a  glorious  fringe  to  this  majestic  sea  of  ice. 
There  are  many  points  from  which  this  scene  is 
surveyed  by  tourists,  each  of  which  presents 
some  new  attraction.  All  should  descend  from 
Montanvert  by  the  precipitous  path  which  leads 
to  the  glacier,  that  they  may  walk  upon  it,  and 
stand  upon  the  verge  of  those  fearful  gulfs, 
formed  by  the  downward    motion  of  the  ice. 


CROSSING    A    GLACIER.  231 

Such  are  the  changes  made  upon  the  surface  of 
the  glacier  by  its  motion,  that  a  new  path  across 
the  icy  sea  has  to  be  marked  out  every  morning. 
The  progress  of  the  sea  is  indicated  by  masses 
of  rocks  which  have  fallen  upon  it  from  the 
precipices  above,  and  which  are  moving  down- 
ward to  join  the  vast  piles  of  debris  accumulat- 
ed into  hills  in  the  valley  below.  In  regard 
to  the  width  of  this  glacier  I  do  not  speak  posi- 
tively. The  air  is  so  clear,  and  the  surrounding 
objects  are  so  unusual,  that  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  judge  correctly  of  distances.  It  takes 
forty-five  minutes  to  cross,  however.  There  are 
flags  along  the  route  to  direct  the  guides,  but 
even  then  we  sometimes  get  between  two 
ravines  which  are  closing  together,  and  are 
forced  to  retrace  our  steps. 

But  we  must  not  linger  here.  Returning  to 
our  hotel  by  the  same  zigzag  route,  the  descent 
of  which  is  more  dangerous  than  the  ascent,  we 
may  spend  a  pleasant  afternoon  in  the  valley, 
amid  the  bazaars  for  the  sale  of  Swiss  wood- 
work, much  of  which  is  of  an  exceedingly 
beautiful    character.      Early  on   the    following 


232  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

morning  we  are  again  in  the  saddle,  with  our 
carpet-bags  and  shawls  strapped  on  behind  us, 
and,  passing  through  the  beautiful  valley  of 
Chainonny,  from  which  we  obtain  an  upward 
view  of  several  fine  glaciers,  we  leave  its  roman- 
tic hamlets  and  villages,  and,  journeying  to- 
ward the  passes  which  lead  to  Martigny  and 
the  valley  of  the  Rhone,  begin  the  ascent  of 
the  Col  de  Balrae.  Thirty  long  and  weary 
miles  are  to  be  passed  over. — but  the  day  is 
fine,  the  air  bracing,  the  guides  attentive,  and 
the  scenery  is  beautiful.  Toiling  up  the  steep 
sides  of  the  mountain  we  soon  leave  all  ve^eta- 
tion  behind  us,  except  the  few  hardy  shrubs 
and  grasses  that  can  endure  the  long  and  severe 
winters.  Here  and  there  a  peasant  is  looking 
after  some  cows,  or  goats  climbing  up  the  dizzy 
precipices  to  the  green  spots  wanned  into 
beauty  by  the  summer's  sun.  It  is  the  middle 
of  July,  but  the  snow  is  still  lying  here  and 
there  around  us,  and  a  thousand  little  streams 
are  laughing  their  way  down  to  the  valley.  I 
made  a  capital  snow-ball,  when  stopping  for  din- 
ner at  the  little  hostelrv  on  the  summit  of  the 


FORCLAZ.  233 

mountain,  where  we  arrived  after  a  ride  of 
about  five  hours.  At  this  point,  7,550  feet 
from  the  sea,  Mont  Blanc  appears  before  us  in  all 
its  vast  proportions,  soaring  above  all  the  sur- 
rounding peaks,  shining  cold,  clear  and  bright 
against  the  cloudless  sky.  Resuming  our  jour- 
ney, after  a  plain  dinner  of  bread  and  milk,  we 
descend  to  the  valley  of  the  Trient,  cross  a 
rapid  stream,  leave  the  romantic  hamlet,  com- 
posed of  rude  chalets,  and  pass  onward,  through 
pine  forests,  with  here  and  there  a  green  patch, 
or  meadow,  or  field  of  barley,  on  our  way  to- 
wards the  Forclaz.  Here  our  passports  are 
examined,  at  a  lonely  police  station,  new  visas 
impressed  upon  it,  and  we  begin  our  descent 
towards  the  valley  of  the  Rhone,  winding  down 
a  zigzag  path,  with  short  and  abrupt  turns, 
which  sometimes  bring  either  the  heads  or  tails 
of  our  mules  over  a  precipice,  down  which  we 
may  cast  a  stone  that  shall  fall  a  thousand  feet 
before  it  touches  the  earth,  to  rebound  down  the 
dark  ravines  which  shrink  away  at  our  feet.  It 
is  a  wild  and  fearful  path,  but  the  views  of  the 
valley  are  magnificent,  and  well  repay  the  toil. 
II* 


234  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

As  we  advance,  signs  of  civilization  appear, 
and  increase  at  every  step.  Peasant  girls,  with 
baskets  of  cherries,  and  other  fruits,  are  offering 
us  their  articles  of  traffic ;  beggars  are  soliciting 
alms ;  farmers  are  gathering  in  their  crops ; 
women  and  children  are  turning  over  the  new- 
mown  hay,  and  large  and  well-laden  wagons 
are  slowly  passing  with  their  loads  of  grain. 
We  are  a  most  sorry  party  when  we  arrive  at 
Martigny,  and  could  not  have  proceeded  much 
further  if  we  had  tried.  Resuming  our  journey 
by  rail  and  steamer,  we  pass  the  beautiful  falls 
of  the  Pissevache;  an  old  hermitage,  perched 
high  upon  a  precipice  ;  lonely  valleys  and  vil- 
lages; through  Lausanne,  the  lake  Xeuchatel 
and  Bienne,  to  the  quaint  city  of  Bern,  and  at 
last  arrive  at  the  most  charming  and  attractive 
of  all  the  places  of  Switzerland — Interlaken.  I 
can  see  that  delightful  valley  now.  The  guide- 
books say,  that  if  you  lose  a  friend  on  the 
road,  you'll  be  sure  to  find  him  there.  Ladies 
are  generally  taken  sick  there,  and  say  to  their 
husbands,  "Do  you  journey  on  by  yourselves 
and  sop  all  that  is  to  be  soon.     Wo  uv^  too  tired 


INTERLAKEN.  235 

to  go  further.  Don't  be  gone  more  thau  a 
month,  and  we'll  wait  for  you  here  at  Inter- 
laken."  Truly,  it  is  the  best  place  in  Europe 
for  a  summer's  enjoyment,  and  I  do  not  see  that 
I  could  do  better  than  leave  you  there  for  a 
week,  and  meet  you  again,  to  journey  with  you 
down  the  Rhine. 


XI. 
THE  RHINE. 

THE  omnibus,  loaded  within  and  without, 
set  us  down,  by  our  direction,  at  the  Pen- 
sion Ritschard  (at  Interlaken)  which  in  Murray's 
account  of  that  place  has  this  brief  but  decided 
notice :  "  Quiet  and  comfortable."  A  pleasant 
experience  of  several  days  at  that  hotel,  enables 
us  to  give  our  full  and  free  endorsement  to  all 
the  good  things  which  have  been  said  of  it. 
Nothing  can  exceed  in  romantic  beauty  the  ap- 
pearance of  Interlaken  as  you  enter  it  from  the 
lake.  Whirling  through  a  long  street  of  huge 
and  quaint  Swiss  cottages,  with  their  steep,  pro- 
jecting roofs,  evidently  built  with  a  view  to 
the  severe  winters  of  this  region,  we  at  length 
emerge  into  a  beautiful  avenue,  shaded  by  broad- 
spreading  trees,  and  lined  with  hotels,  pensions. 


JUNGFRAU.  237 

and  stores  for  the  sale  of  Swiss  fancy  articles. 
On  the  left  hand  flows  the  river  Aar,  connect- 
ing the  lakes  Thun  and  Brienz.  Towards  the 
west  are  the  snow-clad  summits  of  the  Bernese 
Alps,  and  through  an  opening  between  two  in- 
ferior mountains,  rises  that  wondrous  beauty, 
the  Jungfrau,  to  the  height  of  13,720  feet  above 
the  sea;  brilliant  with  its  vast  glaciers,  and 
crowned  with  the  snows  of  an  endless  winter- 
It  is  impossible  to  tire  of  that  scene.  Day  after 
day  we  look  upon  it  with  freshening  interest, 
and  even  now,  among  the  pleasant  memories  of 
the  Old  World,  that  lovely  valley  smiles  before 
me  with  all  its  quiet  beauty,  as  distinct  and  clear 
as  when  my  eye  first  gazed  upon  it. 

We  wonder  not  that  Interlaken  has  become 
the  favorite  resort  of  Europe.  In  fact,  it  is  an 
English  settlement,  with  English  customs,  man- 
ners, and  habits.  One  of  the  most  practicable 
and  delightful  excursions  which  can  be  made,  is 
that  to  the  valley  of  Lauterbrunnen.  It  was 
one  of  the  sights  of  Switzerland  which  I  had 
most  wished  to  see.  The  ride  thither  is  full  of 
romantic  interest,  growing  more  and  more  wildly 


238  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

beautiful,  until  we  turn  into  a  valley  bounded 
by  huge  cliffs,  which  approach  each  other  as  we 
pass  onward,  until  they  seem  almost  to  meet. 
The  view  at  this  point  is  indescribably  grand. 
The  road  winds  along  the  banks  of  a  roaring 
mountain  torrent,  fed  by  the  glaciers  and  snows 
of  the  Alps.  As  the  valley  gradually  opens 
before  us,  its  beautiful  cascades,  falling  like 
silver  threads  from  the  mountain  peaks,  form  one 
of  its  most  attractive  features.  Shepherd  boys, 
with  their  rude  Alpine  horns,  are  awaking  the 
echoes  of  these  huge  cliffs,  which  take  up  the 
wild  strains  and  repeat  them  from  height  to 
height,  until  they  die  away  in  music  so  sweet 
and  soft  that  it  seems  as  if  an  angel's  harp 
were  catching  the  notes  upon  its  strings,  and 
bearing  them  heavenward. 

Passing  a  collection  of  Swiss  cottages,  with  a 
hotel  and  a  neat  village  church,  we  approach 
the  wonderful  fall  of  the  Staubbach,  which 
comes  pouring  down  from  the  height  of  nine 
hundred  feet  Long  ere  it  readies  the  valley 
below  it  is  broken  into  silver  threads,  and  falls 
so  gently  that  its  murmur  seems  like  the  rustling 


STAUBBACH.  239 

of  a  bridal  veil,  which  nature  has  thrown  over 
the  scene.  Byron,  in  his  Drama  of  Manfred,  has 
described  it,  investing  it  with  the  peculiar  hues 
with  which  his  strange  mind  looked  upon 
nature : 

"  It  is  not  noon — the  sun-bow's  rays  still  arch 
The  torrent  with  the  many  hues  of  heaven : 
And  roll  the  sheeted  silver's  waving  column 
O'er  the  crags,  head-long,  perpendicular ; 
And  flings  its  lines  of  foaming  light  along, 
And  to  and  fro,  like  the  pale  courser's  tail — - 
The  giant  steed  to  be  bestrode  by  Death, 
As  told  in  the  Apocalypse  !': 

Besides  this  fall,  there  are  thirty  more,  which 
come  falling  from  the  clouds  to  mingle  with  the 
torrent  which  is  hurrying  downward  toward  the 
rivers  and  lakes  below.  But  we  cannot  linger 
here,  except  to  obtain  a  few  souvenirs  of  the 
place,  and  to  fill  our  minds  and  memories  with 
the  wondrous  wildness  and  beauty  of  the 
scene.  We  spent  a  pleasant  Sabbath  at  Inter- 
laken,  and  listened  to  a  sound,  evangelical  dis- 
course, from  the  English  chaplain.  It  was  most 
touchingly  beautiful  and  affecting,  to  hear  offer- 
ed up,  in  that  far-distant  land,  prayers  for  the 
Queen  of  England,  "and  thy  servant,  the  Presi- 


240  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD, 

dent  of  the  United  States  :*'  the  words  fell 
most  gratefully  on  our  ears.  It  was  hard  to 
leave  this  lovely  valley.  But  a  mountain 
storm,  which,  we  were  told,  might  last  many 
days,  was  gathering  upon  us.  The  clouds  began 
to  shut  down  upon  the  Jungfrau  and  hide  her 
beauties  from  us;  and  so,  turning  away,  we 
were,  in  a  few  hours,  at  Bern, — after  another 
sail  upon  the  lake  of  Thun,  a  view  of  the  pic- 
turesque town  which  bears  its  name,  and  a 
ride  of  two  or  three  hours  in  the  cars. 

Bern  is  a  quaint  old  Swiss  town,  with  two  or 
three  long  streets,  built  with  solid  and  heavy 
colonnades,  which  we  found  very  comfortable  to 
shop  or  walk  under  during  a  storm.  The  city 
stands  upon  a  hill  overlooking  the  Aar,  and  has 
several  line  public  buildings  and  monuments. 
It  contains  about  27,000  inhabitants.  The 
traditions  in  regard  to  its  early  history  are.  that 
it  was  founded  in  1191  by  the  Duke  Berchthold, 
who  killed  a  monstrous  bear  upon  the  spot,  and 
who  began  there  a  city  which  he  called  Bern 
(the  Bear)  in  honor  of  that  event.  The  Bear 
seems  certainly  to  be  the  patron  saint  of  Bern 


BERN.  241 

— if  an  animal  can  properly  be  called  a  patron 
saint,  and  bears  raised  to  that  dignity — for 
almost  every  monument  or  fountain  has  a  statue 
of  one.  The  city  is  abundantly  supplied  with 
water,  and  with  fountains  of  most  queer  device. 
Among  these  is  the  Ogre  Fountain,  representing 
a  monster  devouring  a  child,  while  his  pockets 
are  filled,  like  a  cannibal  Santa  Claus,  with  a 
number  of  others,  of  whom  he  evidently  intends 
making  a  meal.  There  are,  also,  several  curious 
clocks,  one  of  which  has  a  number  of  figures 
moving  by  machinery,  so  that,  when  the  clock 
strikes,  a  procession  of  men  and  animals  moves 
out ;  a  cock  flaps  his  wings,  and  crows ;  Time 
turns  his  hour-glass ;  another  puppet  strikes  the 
hours  upon  a  bell,  and  the  king  stretches,  gapes, 
and  lowers  his  sceptre.  There  is  a  fine  prome- 
nade, built  upon  a  platform,  one  hundred  and 
eight  feet  above  the  Aar,  from  which  may  be 
had  a  magnificent  view  of  the  Bernese  Alps, 
which,  when  seen  at  sunset,  reflect  the  light 
from  their  snowy  peaks,  and  present  a  scene  of 
rare  beauty  even  in  Switzerland. 

Taking  the  cars  from  Bern,  a  few  hours'  ride 


242  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

brings  us  to  Lucerne,  and  the  lake  of  the  Four 
Cantons,  memorable  for  the  stirring  scenes  en- 
acted there,  giving  Liberty  and  Independence  to 
Switzerland.  The  city  itself,  though  small,  has 
many  objects  of  interest, — such  as  its  antique 
bridges,  with  their  quaint  paintings,  numbered 
by  hundreds,  filling  the  triangular  spaces  under 
the  roofs.  Here,  also,  is  the  Lion  monument, 
carved  from  the  solid  rock  where  it  stands- 
This  statue  was  intended  to  commemorate  the 
names  of  the  Swiss  Guard  of  Louis  XVI.,  who 
fell  during  one  of  the  revolutions  in  France. 
The  Lion  lies  in  a  grotto  forty-four  feet  long, 
and  is  itself  twenty-eight  feet  in  length.  But 
the  great  beauty  of  Lucerne  is  the  lake,  and  the 
scenery  which  surrounds  it.  Taking  the  steamer, 
and  sailing  up  toward  Fluellin,  we  pass  through 
a  succession  of  scenes  of  the  most  interesting 
character.  Upon  the  right  rises  Mt.  Pilatus, 
the  violent  storms  which  gather  around  it  being 
thought  the  perturbations  of  Pilate,  who,  tradi- 
tion says,  wandered  hither  and  drowned  himself 
in  the  lake.  Though  how  on  earth  he  reached 
here,  I  have  never  learned.     On  the  left  stands 


THE    RIGI.  243 

the  Rigi,  from  whose  summit  may  be  had,  in 
clear  weather,  the  most  extensive  panorama  of 
Switzerland.  We  would  gladly  have  endured 
the  toil  of  the  ascent,  had  the  clouds  given  any 
sign  of  settled  weather.  But  we  remembered 
the  sad  experience  of  those  who  had  before 
made  the  attempt,  and  whose  sorrow  found  ut- 
terance in  the  following  poetical  effusion,  written, 
it  is  said,  in  the  Album  at  the  summit : 

"  Nine  weary,  up-hill  miles  we  sped, 

The  setting  sun  to  see ; 
Sulky  and  grim  he  went  to  bed ; 

Sulky  and  grim  went  we ! 
Seven  sleepless  hours  we  tossed — and  then, 

The  rising  sun  to  see, 
Sulky  and  grim  we  rose  again, 

Sulky  and  grim  rose  he." 

We  had  no  special  desire  to  subject  our  tem- 
per and  patience  to  this  tax,  and  so  we  passed 
on,  with  new  beauties  ever  opening  before  us, 
toward  the  head  of  the  lake.  Bold  and  rocky 
promontories  stand  in  clear  outline  upon  its  bor- 
ders, and  send  their  giant  shadows  over  its 
waters.  At  the  foot  of  the  Kigi  is  a  slip  of 
land,  upon  the  steep  slope  of  the  hill,  about  two 
miles  wide  by  three  long,  which  for  a  long  time 


244  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

formed  an  independent  state.  A  vers7  small 
state  that,  yet  it  is  a  fact  chat  for  four  centuries 
its  inhabitants  preserved  their  independence. 
Passing  on  from  this  point,  we  enter  upon  a 
wild  and  magnificent  scene,  where  the  lake  is 
hemmed  in  by  vast  mountains,  whose  tops  shine 
with  perpetual  snows,  and  whose  awful  and 
rugged  sides  seem  only  fitted  for  the  home  of 
storms  and  the  eyrie  of  the  eagle.  This  is  the 
scene  where  Tell  bravely  fought  for  liberty,  and 
freed  his  country  from  the  yoke  of  the  oppres- 
sor. Upon  a  point  of  rock  stands  a  chapel, 
marking  the  spot  upon  which  he  sprang  from 
the  boat  in  which  Gesler  was  bearing  him 
to  prison.  The  stoiy  of  this  escape  and  the 
death  of  Gesler,  is  familiar  to  every  school-boy. 
After  those  memorable  scenes, — of  the  tearing 
down  of  the  tyrant's  cap.  the  shooting  the  apple 
from  the  boy's  head,  and  the  discovery  of  that 
other  arrow  which  was  intended  for  the  tyrant's 
heart, — Tell  was  made  a  captive,  and  taken  by 
Gesler  across  the  lake  to  the  castle  in  which  he 
was  to  be  confined.  During  their  passage  a 
most   violent    storm    came    up,  and    Gesler,  in 


BASLE.  245 

alarm,  asked  Tell  to  manage  the  boat.  The 
Swiss  hero  guided  the  little  craft  so  well  that 
its  stern  touched  the  shore  first,  and  he  sprang 
out  and  made  good  his  escape,  after  lodging 
an  arrow  in  the  heart  of  the  tyrant.  This 
chapel  was  erected  in  1388,  not  long  after  Tell's 
death,  and  it  is  the  scene  of  an  annual  gather- 
ing and  festival  to  commemorate  the  event. 
The  scenery  around  is  sublime.  The  mountains 
rising  above  it,  present  a  panorama  awfully 
grand  and  majestic. 

Returning  to  Lucerne,  a  car-ride  of  a  few 
hours  brings  us  to  Basle  and  the  Rhine,  upon 
whose  swift  and  arrowy  waters  it  stands.  It 
has  the  quaint  appearance  of  an  old  German 
town,  with  its  steep-roofed  houses  and  churches. 
Here  it  was  that  the  famous  council  was  held  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  and  in  the  ancient  min- 
ster are  preserved  many  relics  of  Erasmus,  whose 
labors  were  here  given  to  the  cause  of  the  Prot- 
estant Church.  The  cathedral  towers  are  odd, 
and  a  most  queer-looking  bell  hangs  on  the  out- 
side of  one  of  them.  Quaint  figures  and  carv- 
ings decorate  it,   within   and  without,  and  its 


246  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

whole  appearance  is  in  keeping  with  its  great 
age.  Crossing  the  river,  we  take  the  cars  for 
Baden-Baden,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  water- 
ing places  of  Germany. 

The  country  is  level  and  comparatively  unin- 
teresting, except  as  it  abounds  in  countless  vine- 
yards and  farms,  and  skirts  the  borders  of  the 
Black  Forest,  so  long  famous  in  German  legends. 
Passing  Fribourg,  whose  tall  minster-spire  is  a 
prominent  feature  of  the  town,  and  catching  a 
distant  view  of  the  cathedral  of  Strasbourg,  in  a 
few  hours  we  arrive  at  Baden-Baden,  a  city  of 
about  6,000  inhabitants,  and  which  lies  chiefly 
upon  the  slope  of  a  hill,  from  whose  summit 
may  be  obtained  a  view  of  almost  unsurpassed 
beauty  and  extent. 

Here  stand  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  castle,  at 
which,  until  the  year  1741,  the  Dukes  of  Baden 
resided.  A  new  one  has  since  been  built,  lower 
down  the  hill,  where  the  present  Duke  dwells, 
and  which  is  open  to  visitors.  It  is  a  tasteful 
chateau,  but  beneath  it  are  dungeons,  gloomy 
and  fearful,  filled  with  the  sad  emblems  of  an- 
cient tyranny  and    oppression.     Winding   our 


THE    CONVERZATIONS    HAUS.  247 

way  downward,  under  the  direction  of  the  cas- 
tellan, we  come  to  chambers  which  were  once 
filled  with  instruments  of  torture,  a  few  of  which 
still  remain.  The  doors  are  of  solid  stone,  and 
of  great  thickness,  and  their  closing  sound  must 
have  fallen  dreadfully  upon  the  ear  of  the 
prisoner  whose  fate  hung  upon  the  will  of  a 
brutal  tyrant.  Every  spot  reminded  us  of  those 
days  of  darkness  when  the  strong  ruled  the 
weak,  and  violence  and  oppression  stood  in  the 
place  of  liberty  and  law.  We  passed  through 
these  doors  into  a  vaulted  space,  and  entered 
the  chamber  where  the  prisoners  were  tried  and 
condemned.  And  we  shuddered  as  we  thought 
of  the  scenes  which  had  here  been  enacted. 

Near  the  castle  are  13  hot  springs  bursting 
from  the  ground,  which  so  heat  the  earth  that 
the  place  is  called  Hell — a  name,  as  we  shall 
see,  better  applied  to  a  much  more  attractive 
resort.  The  water  is  conveyed  by  pipes  to  the 
Trinke  Halle,  where  it  is  drawn  off  for  use. 
Large  rows  of  shops  for  the  sale  of  various  arti- 
cles line  the  avenue  to  the  famous  Converzations 
haus,  which  is  one  of  the  great  features  of  Baden. 


248  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Everything  sold  in  Vanity  Fair  may  be  found 
in  these  shops.  The  saloon  is  nothing  more 
than  an  immense  gambling-house,  fitted  up  in 
the  most  magnificent  manner,  in  which,  besides 
numerous  private  parlors  and  rooms,  there  are 
two  large  halls  for  gambling,  and  these  are  the 
resort  of  many  of  the  nobility  of  Europe.  Here 
they  sit,  hour  after  hour,  staking  their  money — 
their  characters  gone  long  ago.  In  front  of  the 
house  is  a  large  square,  where  a  splendid  band 
of  music  gives  evening  concerts.  In  the  porch, 
as  you  enter,  hang  the  hats  and  opera-cloaks  of 
ladies  who  have  come  to  spend  their  evening 
and  their  money.  Passing  through  a  splendid 
hall,  where  a  roulette  table  is  surrounded  by 
men  and  women,  you  enter  a  second  hall,  where 
a  crowd  of  both  sexes  are  seated,  eagerly  en- 
gaged in  the  game  of  Rouge  et  Noir.  Piles  of 
money  are  lying  before  them;  one  man  deals 
the  cards,  and  calls  out  red  or  black,  as  one  or 
the  other  happens  to  turn  up ;  and  the  four 
croupiers,  with  small  rakes,  push  out  or  bring 
in  the  money  which  has  been  won  or  lost. 
Strict  silence  is  observed,  and  hour  after  hour 


GAMBLING.  249 

that  group  are  busy  at  their  terrible  amuse- 
ment. Never  did  I  see  such  expressions  of 
countenance  as  at  that  table,  as  the  players 
placed  large  rolls  of  gold  coin  upon  it,  and  at  a 
turn  of  the  cards,  either  lost  or  won.  I  confess 
that  I  never  could  see  what  particular  amuse- 
ment there  is  in  card-playing .  It  seems  like  a 
stupid  and  idle  way  of  spending  time,  and  to 
my  mind  argues  a  want  of  good  sense.  But 
gambling  predicates  an  utter  absence  of  every 
noble  and  manly  virtue  and  principle.  It  is 
said  that  this  place  is  let  to  a  company  (who 
also  farm  out  similar  rights  at  other  watering- 
places)  for  $15,000  annually,  and  that,  besides 
this,  the  company  agree  to  expend  a  much  lar- 
ger sum  in  improvements  about  the  city.  It  is 
a  sad  sight  to  watch  these  groups  of  men  and 
women,  whether  they  gain  or  lose,  and  to  think 
that,  in  a  spot  of  so  much  beauty,  there  should 
be  such  appliances  for  crime. 

Leaving  Baden-Baden,  we  proceed  by  rail  to 
Heidelburg,  whose  chief  attraction  is  the  mag- 
nificent ruin  crowning  the  hill,  and  affording  one 
of  the  most  splendid  specimens  in    Europe  of  a! 
12 


250  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

castle  of  the  feudal  ages.  Taking  a  carnage  we 
ascend  an  almost  precipitous  hill,  lined  with 
quaint  old  German  houses,  and  crowded  with 
women  and  children,  many  of  whom  would 
have  been  none  the  worse  off  for  a  little  soap 
and  water.  Our  driver  could  speak  French,  but 
every  one  around  us  was  uttering  German, 
which,  when  spoken  as  musically  as  possible, 
resembles  more  the  sound  made  by  the  filing 
of  a  cross-cut  saw  than  anything  I  can  imagine. 
At  the  castle,  a  bright  and  intelligent  young 
woman  became  our  cicerone,  led  us  over  the 
ruins,  and  disposed  of  some  very  fine  views  of 
the  spot.  This  vast  and  noble  building,  after 
having  been  three  times  burned,  and  having 
sustained  ten  sieges,  was  again  set  on  fire  by 
lightning,  just  after  it  had  been  fitted  up  as  a 
residence  for  its  royal  proprietors :  since  which 
time  (1764)  it  has  remained  a  ruin. 

Pausing  on  our  way  down,  to  look  at  the 
venerable  church  of  St.  Peter's,  to  whose  door 
Jerome,  of  Prague,  long  before  Luther,  nailed 
his  Theses,  declaring  his  dissent  from  the  faith 
of  Rome,  we  resume  our  place  in  the  cars,  and, 


MAYENCE.  251 

passing  through  Worms,  in  sight  of  the  cathe- 
dral where  Luther  nobly  affirmed  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Reformation,  we  stop,  for  the 
night,  at  Mayence,  whence  the  boats  down  the 
Rhine  take  their  departure.  The  current  at 
this  place  runs  at  about  five  or  six  knots  or 
miles  an  hour.  We  pass  a  boat  whose  paddles 
are  ceaselessly  beating  the  water,  and  yet  it 
never  advances.  It  is  anchored  here,  and  is 
employed  in  grinding  corn.  At  Mayence  we 
meet  with  many  objects  worthy  of  our  atten- 
tion. It  was  here  that  Guttenburg  was  born, 
to  whose  genius  we  are  indebted  for  the  in- 
vention of  movable  type,  and  his  monument 
in  bronze  stands  in  an  open  square  in  the  city. 
His  first  printing-office  is  also  to  be  seen.  There 
is  a  noble  cathedral  here,  built  in  the  tenth  and 
eleventh  centuries,  and  filled  with  monuments 
and  statues.  Across  the  river  is  stretched  the 
first  bridge  of  boats  with  which  we  meet,  and 
which  affords  a  very  comfortable  and  safe  tran- 
sit. It  is  in  the  form  of  a  bow,  in  order  to 
better  resist  the  force  of  the  current,  and  is  so 
arranged  with  machinery,  as  to  allow  the  passage 


252  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

down  and  up  the  river  of  other  boats.  Here 
lie  at  anchor  a  large  number  of  tide  mills,  like 
that  we  have  just  described,  seeming  like  some 
old-fashioned  steamboats  attempting  to  ascend 
the  river. 

Early  in  the  morning,  we  take  passage  in  one 
of  the  numerous  Rhine  boats,  for  Cologne.  A 
large  number  of  these  vessels  leave,  every  day, 
both  morning  and  evening.  As  regards  com- 
forts and  conveniences,  they  might  be  greatly 
improved,  for  they  scarcely  excel  one  of  our  or- 
dinary tug-boats  in  accommodations.  They 
have  no  cabins,  except  down  below.  You 
must  eat  on  deck,  even  in  the  rain ;  and,  as  if 
to  inconvenience  you  in  every  possible  way, 
they  put  their  small  boats  just  where  they  will 
intercept  your  view.  If  you  ask  them  why  they 
don't  have  American  steamers,  they  reply  that 
"  American  boats  blow  up !  "  The  Dutchmen 
prefer  safety  to  comfort,  and  we  don't  know 
but  they  have  made  the  best  if  not  the  most 
pleasant  choice.  There  is  a  fine  chance,  how- 
ever, for  an  enterprising  Yankee  to  make  a  for- 
tune, if  he  will  take  American  models  out  upon 


THE    RHINE.  253 

the  Rhine.  Four  boats  would  be  enough,  two 
for  day  and  two  for  night  travel.  We  might 
teach  the  Germans  something,  and  might  learn 
from  them,  too,  for  that  matter.  We  should  be 
willing  to  exchange  ideas,  and  both  parties 
would  be  benefited. 

Much  of  the  interest  of  a  sail  down  the  Rhine 
depends  upon  the  associations  connected  with 
it.  For,  in  the  first  place,  the  Rhine  takes  its 
rise  from  the  glaciers  and  snows  of  the  Alps, 
which  also  feed  its  countless  tributary  streams. 
Then,  it  is  nine  hundred  miles  long,  six  hun- 
dred of  which  are  navigable.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  that  part  which  lies  between  Bingen  and 
Drachenfels,  the  scenery  is  tame  and  compara- 
tively uninteresting.  Between  these  two  points 
there  is  a  marked  resemblance  to  the  Highlands 
of  our  own  Hudson  river.  Contrasting  the 
whole  of  the  Rhine  with  the  Hudson,  or  the 
valley  of  the  Connecticut — which  I  think  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world — or  the  majestic 
St.  Lawrence — which  every  one  ought  to  see — I 
cannot  but  believe  that  much  of  the  admiration 
which  has  been  lavished  upon  it  is  due  to  the 


254  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

contrasts  it  presents  between  its  tame  and  flat 
shores,  and  the  splendid  gorge  above  Drachen- 
fels.  and  partly  from  the  romance  which  is 
thrown  over  it  by  the  venerable  castles  and 
ruins  which  meet  the  eye  at  every  turn,  and 
with  each  of  which  some  German  legend  is  con- 
nected. The  numerous  vineyards  which  line  its 
sides  and  grace  every  hill  which  rises  above  it. 
also  add  much  to  its  beauty ;  while  many  pic- 
turesque towns  and  villages,  or  noble  fortresses, 
rising  upon  commanding  elevations,  contribute 
to  its  interest.  The  Germans  certainly  do  un- 
derstand agriculture,  and  they  are  a  most  won- 
derful people  in  this  respect.  The  vineyards 
from  which  are  produced  the  many  celebrated 
wines  known  in  the  vocabulary  of  the  epicure, 
are  grown  upon  terraces,  overhanging  the  river, 
and  present  a  very  pretty  appearance  when  seen 
from  it.  When  they  cannot  find  soil  enough 
among  the  rocks,  they  hang  out  baskets  of  earth, 
and  cultivate  the  vine  in  them. 

As  we  pass  downward  by  the  celebrated  Bin- 
gen  on  the  Rhine,  a  small  square  tower  is  seen 
rising  from  an  island,  just  below  and  near  the 


MOUSE    TOWER.  255 

junction  of  the  Nahe  with  the  Rhine.  It  is  the 
famous  Mouse  Tower  of  Bishop  Hatto,  of  whom 
tradition  tells  this  story :  During  a  seven  years' 
famine,  the  Bishop,  in  whose  barn  was  an  abun- 
dance of  grain,  invited  the  starving  and  clamor- 
ous poor  to  enter  his  granaries  and  help  them- 
selves. Upon  a  set  day  they  came,  and  when 
they  had  filled  one  of  his  barns,  he  set  it  on  fire, 
and  consumed  the  poor  wretches,  presuming 
that  the  country  would  be  very  much  obliged 
to  him  for  burning  the  rats  who  only  ate  up  the 
corn.  The  next  day  news  came  that  the  real 
rats  were  eating  up  his  grain,  and,  soon  after, 
that,  having  devoured  all  they  had  found,  they 
were  about  proceeding  to  eat  up  his  Lordship 
also.  To  avoid  such  a  fate  he  fled  in  haste  to 
this  tower,  and  laid  himself  down  to  sleep  in 
peace.  But  his  cat  soon  awakened  him  with 
the  intelligence  that  the  rats  were  swimming  the 
Rhine.  He  fell  upon  his  knees  in  terror,  as  he 
heard  them  gnawing  away  at  the  door,  and  saw 
them  pouring  in  at  the  windows;  and  after 
whetting  their  teeth  against  the  stones,  they 
proceeded   to  finish   the   amiable   bishop  him- 


21  [MPBI  -  ABROAD. 

self,  as  a  proper  punishment  for  his  em 
crime  - ! 

As  we  pass 
3     E  Rhine,  made  asage  of  a 

range  of  mountains    across    the    river.      Here 
s  in  the  series    I      -ties  built  by  the  robbers 

I  :_    waymen   of  the   feudal   ages,   wL 
Verity  are  now  the  princes  and  nobility  of 

1  -  rmany.  Here  they  entrenched  themselv  s, 
and  lived  in  security  upon  the  plunder  which 
they  gained  from  travellers,  and  to  which  they 
affixed  the  name  of  %t  toll.'"  to  give  it  respecta- 
bility, but  which  was  nothing  letter  than 
black-mail  or  rol  >bery. 

Following  the  rapid  current  of  the  Rhine,  we 
pass  the  bleak  and  bare  precipice  of  Leirleibmg, 
with  a  remarkable  echo,  used  by  the  Genuan 
f  humor.  .  an  answer 

to  the  question,  who  is  Burgomaster  of  Ober- 
wei-el:  You  must  know  that  "Esel"  in  Ger- 
man means  an  "as-."  or  a  "stupid  fellow."  >  i 
the  studer.  -Who  i<  the  Burgomaster  of 

Ober     '.-  '  . "      "  I  .    .  nd 

the  students  are  i  1.     Not  far  above  as 


EHRENBREITSTEIN.  257 

seven  rocks  jut  out  above  the  waters,  into  which 
it  is  said  that  seven  beautiful  coquettes,  who 
had  turned  the  heads  and  broken  the  hearts  of 
all  the  beaux  on  the  Rhine,  were  thrown  for 
their  obstinacy.  Still  farther  down  stands  the 
summer  palace  of  the  King  of  Prussia.  Sailing 
downward,  we  come  to  Coblentz,  at  the  junction 
of  the  Blue  Moselle.  Here,  upon  a  command- 
ing elevation,  stands  the  splendid  fortress  of 
Ehrenbreitstein,  overlooking  the  city,  with 
which  the  village  below  the  castle  is  connected 
by  a  bridge  of  boats.  This  vast  citadel  is  the 
Gibralter  of  the  Rhine.  It  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  French  after  a  protracted  siege,  and  was 
blown  up  by  them  when  they  left  it  after  the 
peace.  It  is  to  this  that  Byron  alludes  in  these 
words : 

"  Here  Ehrenbreitstein  with  her  shattered  wall 
Black  with  the  miner's  bla^t,  upon  her  height 
Yet  shows  of  what  she  was,  when  shell  and  ball 
"Rebounding  idly  on  her  strength  did  light : 
A  tower  of  victory !  from  whence  the  flight 
Of  baffled  foes  was  watched  along  the  plain : 
But  peace  destroyed  what  war  could  never  blight, 
And  laid  those  proud  roofs  bare  to  summer's  rain, 

On  which  the  iron  shower  for  years  had  pour'd  in  vain  !  " 

But  this  fortress  is  now  kept  in  perfect  repair 
12* 


258  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

by  the  Prussians,  is  capable  of  holding  100,000 
men,  and  its  magazines  can  contain  provisions  for 
a  siege  of  ten  years,  with  8,000  soldiers.  Four 
hundred  cannons  defend  the  walls,  which  are 
of  great  strength,  and  seem,  in  their  present 
state,  to  defy  the  assaults  of  war. 

At  this  point  the  gorge  of  the  river  termi- 
nates, but  the  Rhine  retains  much  of  its  roman- 
tic beauty  and  picturesque  castles  and  ruins, 
until  we  reach  the  Seven  Mountains,  the  most 
beautiful  and  remarkable  of  which  is  the  famed 
Drachenfels,  from  whose  summit  the  valley  of 
the  Rhine  may  be  seen  as  far  down  as  Cologne, 
and  where  one  feels,  as  he  gazes  upon  that  scene 
of  beauty,  the  power  of  the  poet's  song : 

"  The  castle  craig  of  Drachenfels 
Frowns  o'er  the  wide  and  winding  Rhine, 
"Whose  breast  of  water  broadly  swells 
Between  the  banks  which  bear  the  vine, 
And  hills  all  rich  with  blossomed  trees. 
And  fields,  which  promise  corn  and  wine, 
And  scattered  cities,  crowning  these, 
Whose  far  white  walls  along  them  shine, 
Have  strewed  a  scene,  which  I  should  see 
With  double  joy,  wert  thou  with  me!" 

From  this  point  to  the  city  of  Cologne  the 
scenery  is  tame  and  uninteresting.     At  Cologne 


COLOGNE.  259 

we  find  a  city  which  is  just  beginning  to  recover 
from  a  long  and  fearful  paralysis  of  trade,  but 
whose  history  is  full  of  interest,  and  whose 
churches  and  monuments  well  repay  a  visit. 
A  bridge  of  boats  crosses  the  Rhine  here,  and 
the  railroad  company  have  just  completed  a 
viaduct  of  great  strength  and  beauty.  This 
city  was  a  Roman  camp  when  Tacitus  wrote 
his  annals,  and,  as  lately  as  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, the  higher  classes  called  themselves  "pa- 
tricians," and  the  town-banners  bore  the  Roman 
inscription  of  S.  P.  Q.  R.  Owing  to  the  big- 
otry and  intolerance  of  its  Popish  rulers,  trade 
gradually  left  Cologne  and  found  other  marts. 
Meanwhile  its  churches  and  religious  institu- 
tions increased,  until  it  was  filled  with  ecclesias- 
tics and  beggars.  The  restrictions  under  which 
it  languished  have  now  been  removed,  and 
the  city  is  gradually  awakening  from  its  long 
and  death-like  stupor.  It  contains  numerous 
churches,  which,  in  their  decorations  and  relics, 
seem  to  reproduce  the  scenes  of  Italy. 

First  in   interest  is  the  cathedral,   or   Dom 
Kirche,   whicli   might   properly   be   called   the 


200  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

church  of  magnificent  intentions.  It  was  begun 
in  the  year  1248,  and  is  still  incomplete.  When 
finished  it  will  be  one  of  the  finest  gothic  struc- 
tures in  the  world.  The  choir  is  completed, 
and  is  a  gem  of  beauty.  Its  ceiling  is  161  feet 
high,  and  its  stained-glass  windows,  its  stupen- 
dous columns  and  buttresses,  and  its  beautiful 
frescoes  and  ornaments,  combine  to  make  it 
scarcely  surpassed  in  Europe,  and  show  us 
what  will  be  the  magnificence  of  the  church 
when  finished.  In  a  small  chapel,  behind  the 
choir,  are  three  skulls,  profusely  decorated  and 
surrounded  by  articles  of  great  value.  These 
skulls  are  said  to  be  those  of  the  Magi,  who 
brought  their  gifts  to  the  infant  Saviour.  The 
church  of  St.  Peter's  is  decorated  with  an  altar- 
piece  by  Rubens,  representing  the  Crucifixion 
of  the  Apostle.  In  the  church  of  St.  Ursula, 
the  walls  and  columns  are  covered  with  the 
bones  of  11,000  virgins,  who,  it  is  said,  were 
slaughtered  at  Cologne  by  the  Huns,  because 
they  refused  to  violate  their  vows  of  celibacy 
There  the  bones  are,  grinning  at  you  from  every 
side, — a  spectacle  more  ghastly  than  sublime. 


COLOGNE-WATER.  261 

The  manufacture  of  Cologne-water,  which 
has  made  this  city  famous,  seems  to  be  an  abso- 
lute necessity  to  counteract  the  horribly  impure 
atmosphere,  which  every  one  breathes  in  the 
filthy  streets.  Coleridge  declares  that  he  en- 
countered sixty  or  seventy  distinct  smells,  be- 
sides several  decided  odors  of  still  worse  char- 
acter and  name.  As  the  result  of  his  experi- 
ence, he  wrote: 

' '  Ye  nymphs  who  reign  o'er  sewers  and  sinks, 
The  river  Rhine,  it  is  well  known, 
Doth  wash  your  city  of  Cologne  ; 
But,  tell  me,  nymphs,  what  power  divine, 
Shall  henceforth  wash  the  river  Rhine! " 

Jean  Maria  Farina  is  the  great  manufacturer 
of  Cologne-water,  but  as  there  is  a  score  of  that 
name  in  the  city,  it  is  rather  difficult  to  know 
which  is  the  "genuine  original." 

Resuming  our  route  down  the  river,  which, 
from  this  point,  is  wholly  flat  and  uninteresting, 
a  night's  sail,  in  a  most  uncomfortable  boat 
utterly  unfitted  for  sleeping,  brings  us  to  Arn- 
heim,  the  first  town  in  Holland,  whence  we 
take  the  cars  for  Amsterdam. 

Everything  in  this  wonderful  country  seems 


262  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

to  be  the  reverse  of  all  which  we  have  hitherto 
seen.  A  greater  part  of  it  has  been  rescued 
from  the  sea,  at  an  immense  outlay  of  time, 
labor,  and  money,  and  is  preserved  from  inun- 
dation only  by  constant  vigilance  and  effort. 
Large  dykes,  filled  in  with  reeds  and  mud, 
keep  out  the  water.  Canals  make  a  perfect 
network  throughout  the  country,  and  seem  to 
be  essential  to  the  perfection  of  every  city,  ham- 
let, and  farm.  As  we  approach  Amsterdam,  its 
numerous  windmills,  their  sails  flying  around  in 
the  stiff  breeze,  form  a  prominent  feature  of  the 
landscape.  The  city  is  traversed  by  four  great 
canals,  which  are  intersected  by  various  smaller 
ones,  by  which  it  is  divided  into  ninety-five 
islands,  connected  by  three  hundred  bridges. 
The  town  is  built  upon  piles  driven  down  deep 
through  layers  of  sand  and  bog,  into  the  firm 
soil  beneath.  Along  the  canal  are  fine  rows  of 
trees,  and  the  houses  have  the  usual  quaint  ap- 
pearance of  an  old  Dutch  town,  with  gable-ends 
to  the  street,  and  roofs  which  run  up,  like  stee- 
ples, to  a  great  height,  and  are  surmounted 
n-ith  the  old  conventional  vane.     The  city  con- 


AMSTERDAM.  263 

tains  a  population  of  212,000,  and  is,  in  most 
parts,  a  very  model  of  neatness.  One  of  the 
queer  "institutions"  of  Amsterdam  is  a  coach 
or  cart  on  runners,  by  the  side  of  which  walks 
the  driver,  with  a  rag  which  he  occasionally 
dips  in  oil,  and  applies  under  the  runners,  to 
lessen  the  friction  and  make  its  motion  more 
easy.  Heavy  burdens,  however,  are  conveyed 
by  the  canals.  Just  opposite  the  city  begins 
the  ship  canal,  fifty  miles  in  length,  which 
forms  the  great  highway  between  Amsterdam 
and  the  ocean. 

The  palace  is  a  vast  building  on  piles,  with 
many  rooms  well  furnished  and  richly  decorated. 
The  grand  hall  is  lined  with  pure  Italian  marble, 
and  is  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  length 
by  one  hundred  in  height.  The  churches  of 
Amsterdam,  though  stripped  of  their  former  or- 
naments, present  some  noble  specimens  of  archi- 
tecture. The  ministers  wear  a  singular  and 
quaint  black  gown,  in  the  fashion  of  the  Puri- 
tans in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  It  is  a  sort  of 
cloak,  decorated  with  a  ruff  around  the  neck. 
The  people  sit  with  their  hats  on  during  service. 


264  IMPRESSIONS   ABROAD. 

like  the  members  of  the  British  House  of  Par- 
liament. The  minster  contains  a  noble  organ, 
of  great  power  and  rich  tone.  Along  the  harbor 
one  observes  many  pavilions,  to  which  the 
citizens  come  in  their  boats,  and  where  they  sit 
and  smoke  their  pipes,  and  drink  then-  beer  and 
coffee,  during  the  summer  evenings. 

From  Amsterdam  to  Rotterdam,  the  road 
passes  through  a  fine  fanning  district,  and  the 
eye  is  charmed  with  the  appearances  of  thrift 
and  home  comfort  which  everywhere  abound. 
Rotterdam  is  but  a  repetition  of  every  other 
Dutch  city,  with  its  canals,  its  dykes,  its  wind- 
mills, its  tiled  roofs,  its  fresh  and  cleanly-looking 
women,  its  unmistakably  Dutch  physiognomies, 
its  quaint-looking  boats,  its  droll  houses,  and 
droller  people,  that,  according  to  Butler,  in  his 
Hudibras: 

" always  ply  the  pump,  and  never  think 

They  can  be  safe  but  at  the  rate  they  sink  ; 
That  live  as  if  they  had  been  run  aground, 
And,  when  they  die,  are  cast  away  and  drowned. 
A  land  that  rides  at  anchor,  and  is  moored ! 
In  which  they  do  not  live,  but — go  aboard  I" 

With  all  that  is  quaint  and  strange,  Holland 


HOLLAND.  265 

is  a  country  which  deserves  the  respect  of  the 
world.  It  is  a  wonderful  example  of  the  triumph 
of  industry  and  science  over  nature.  Its  mer- 
chants have  forced  commerce  and  trade  thither. 
Its  farmers  are  growing  rich  upon  land  which 
they  have  reclaimed  from  the  sea.  Its  ships 
float  above  the  house-tops.  Its  croaking  frogs 
in  the  marshes  look  down  upon  the  swallows 
which  twitter  in  the  chimneys !  Holland  was  the 
early  home  of  the  Reformation.  It  has  encour- 
aged learning  and  freedom,  and  long  before  our 
Revolution  it  had  a  liberal  and  just  government, 
modelled,  like  that  of  the  church,  upon  a  scheme 
which  divided  the  power  between  the  rulers  and 
the  people.  Nor  can  one  fail  of  seeing  every- 
where around  him,  as  he  journeys  through  the 
country,  that  industry,  order,  intelligence  and 
virtue,  which  are  the  essential  elements  of  a 
nation's  greatness. 

Leaving  Rotterdam  by  steamer,  we  proceed 
by  a  pleasant  sail  to  Antwerp.  A  number  of 
cities  are  passed  on  our  way,  among  which  is 
the  famous  Dort,  or  Dordricht,  celebrated  as  the 
place  of  meeting  of  the  Synod  which  settled  the 


266  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

doctrine  of  the  Reformed  Church  of  Holland. 
We  pause  at  Antwerp,  a  fine  and  prosperous 
commercial  city,  to  visit  the  cathedral,  in  which 
hangs  the  celebrated  altar-piece,  by  Rubens,  of 
the  Descent  from  the  Cross.  The  pulpits  and 
confessionals  of  this  church  are  of  rare  beauty. 
The  cathedral  itself  is  of  great  size  and  fine  pro- 
portions. 

Leaving  Antwerp  just  at  sundown,  a  pleasant 
ride  of  two  hours  brings  us  to  Brussels,  which, 
in  its  neatness,  taste  and  fashion,  is  a  miniature 
Paris.  Our  first  business  in  the  morning  is  to 
visit  the  battle-ground  of  "Waterloo.  We  pur- 
sue the  same  route  which  the  English  army 
took.  A  few  miles  out  we  were  joined  by  Ser- 
geant Mundy — a  brother-in-law  of  the  former 
cicerone — whose  graphic  description  of  the  action 
adds  greatly  to  the  interest  of  a  visit  to  that 
spot.  A  vast  mound,  two  hundred  feet  high, 
has  been  thrown  up  as  a  monument  of  the 
dreadful  conflict.  We  inspected  the  whole  field : 
the  spot  where  the  battle  began ;  the  farm-house 
so  often  retaken  ;  the  trench  before  it  in  which 
the  wounded  hid  from  the  cannon  balls;  the 


WATERLOO.  267 

spot  where  the  Old  Guard  stood  and  melted 
away  before  the  stern  armies  of  England. 
Everything  was  marked  out  for  us  by  our  guide, 
and  we  rehearsed  the  entire  battle.  We  re- 
turned from  this  spot,  filled  with  these  mighty 
memories,  and  recalling  this  most  tremendous 
conflict  of  modern  times,  and  the  brave  men, 
gathered  in  Belgium's  capital,  who  marched  forth 
over  this  very  road — to  death. 

"  And  Ardennes  waves  above  them  her  green  leaves, 

Dewy  with  Nature's  tear-drops,  as  they  pass, 

Grieving,  if  aught  inanimate  e'er  grieves, 

Over  the  unreturning  brave, — alas  I 

E'er  evening  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass, 

"Which  now  beneath  them,  but  above  shall  grow 

In  its  next  verdure,  when  this  fiery  mass 

Of  living  valor,  rolling  on  the  foe, 

And  burning  with  high  hope,  shall  moulder,  cold  and  low. 

We  spent  a  day  in  looking  over  Brussels,  and 
then  taking  the  cars  for  Ostend  passed  through 
a  country  which  was  giving  every  indication  of 
thrift  and  industry. 


XII. 

ENGLAND. 

A  SMALL  and  utterly  comfortless  steamer 
received  us  at  Ostend,  a  city  exceedingly 
well  contrived  to  make  us  happy  to  leave  the 
Continent.  For  the  last  time  my  passport~was 
inspected  by  the  authorities  of  Belgium,  after 
which,  as  a  sort  of  refreshing  revenge,  I  thrust 
it  down  into  the  darkest  corner  of  my  carpet 
bag.  As  we  steamed  away  from  the  harbor,  a 
most  uncomfortable  swell  began  to  give  to  us 
indications  of  what  we  were  to  expect,  and  as 
the  wind  and  waves  seemed  determined  to  make 
a  night  of  it,  most  of  the  passengers  found  it 
necessary  to  retire  to  the  cabin,  and  the  sailors 
were  glad  to  get  as  far  as  possible  from  the  for- 
ward deck,  which  for  several  hours  was  com- 
pletely washed  by  the  heavy  seas  which  came 


AN    ENGLISH    INN.  269 

tumbling  in  upon  tis  without  so  much  as  saying 
"  By  your  leave."  It  was  slightly  amusing  to  see 
a  lady,  who  had  been  boasting  somewhat  of  her 
nautical  experiences,  and  her  freedom  from  the 
usual  penalties  which  the  sea  exacted,  stretched 
out  upon  a  lounge  in  all  the  horror  of  sea-sick- 
ness, with  an  awful  visage  which  betokened 
anything  but  a  sound  and  healthy  state  of  the 
stomach. 

At  last  we  reach  England,  pass  the  light- 
house of  Dover,  the  ship  hauls  into  her  berth, 
the  officers  of  the  customs  take  charge  of  our 
baggage,  and  we  find  our  way  up  a  huge  flight 
of  stairs  to  the  street,  and  to  a  hotel  near  by. 
There  is  an  air  of  comfort  about  an  English  inn, 
which  one  finds  nowhere  on  the  Continent, — at 
least  we  did  not.  There  is  a  tempting  look 
about  those  huge  and  juicy  rounds  of  beef  which 
the  waiter  sets  down  before  a  hungry  traveller 
that  is  utterly  indescribable.  And  the  rosy- 
cheeked,  fresh-looking  and  good-natured  maid- 
servant, with  her  pretty  white  cap  and  apron, 
who  attends  to  your  comforts,  and  bustles  about 
all  in  smiles  and  ribbons,  looks  so  thoroughly 


270  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

English,  that  a  traveller  from  the  Continent 
would  know  he  was  in  England  if  he  had  been 
taken  there  while  asleep. 

Dover  is  a  city  of  about  twenty-two  thousand 
souls,  encompassed  by  a  sjuendid  range  of  hills 
and  cliffs  of  chalk,  upon  which  are  several  im- 
portant fortresses.  The  castle  is  an  immense 
structure,  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  found- 
ed by  the  Romans,  and  which  was  afterwards 
added  to  and  improved  by  the  Normans  and 
Saxons.  Overlooking  the  sea  is  an  immense 
cliff  of  chalk,  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high. 
It  is  on  this  spot  that  Shakspeare  has  laid  some 
of  the  scenes  in  his  stupendous  tragedy  of  King 
Lear.  It  was  this  cliff  that  Edgar  described  to 
his  blind  father ; 

"  How  fearful 
And  dizzy  'tis  to  cast  one's  eyes  so  low. 

*        The  murmuring  surge 
That  on  the  unnumbered  idle  pebbles  chafe 
Cannot  be  heard  so  high.     I'll  look  no  more 
Lest  my  brain  turn,  and  the  deficient  sight 
Topple  down  headlong." 

Passing  through  the  tunnel  under  this  cliff 
we  travel  through  a  country  of  exceeding  beauty, 
where  every  inch  of  land  seems  to  be  in  the 


WESTMINSTER    ABBEY.  271 

highest  state  of  cultivation.  As  the  road  enters 
London  it  passes  over  a  series  of  arches  built 
above  the  housetops  in  many  places,  and  landing 
us  within  a  moment's  walk  of  the  famous  London 
Bridge. 

The  Sabbath  following  our  arrival  we  attend 
ed  services  in  Westminster  Abbey,  the  place  of 
all  others  we  had  most  desired  to  see  in  London, 
for  its  monumental  collections,  and  as  the  re- 
pository of  the  dust  of  England's  mighty  dead. 
A  small  part  only  of  the  Abbey  is  appropriated 
to  religious  services. 

We  took  an  early  opportunity  in  the  succeed- 
ing week  to  spend  a  part  of  a  day  in  visiting 
this  vast  edifice.  Its  origin  dates  back  to  the 
seventh  century,  from  which  time  it  has  been 
enlarged  and  beautified  until  it  has  reached  its 
present  stately  appearance.  It  is  built  in  the 
form  of  a  Latin  cross,  three  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  feet  by  two  hundred,  with  a  height  of  one 
hundred  and  one  feet.  The  interior  of  the  church 
presents  a  fine  example  of  Gothic  architecture, 
but  it  is  the  wondrous  collection  of  monuments 
which  forms  the  glory  of  this  pile. 


272  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Beginning  at  the  Poet's  corner,  we  pass  thro' 
a  vast  array  of  noble  memorials  which  show  that 
England  does  not  forget  to  honor  the  memory 
of  departed  worth  and  genius.  Almost  every 
form  of  monumental  sculpture  is  here  seen. 
Addison  is  surrounded  by  the  Muses.  Handel 
rests  with  his  left  arm  upon  a  group  of  musical 
instruments,  listening  with  fixed  attention  to  a 
seraph's  harp,  while  before  him  is  a  scroll  on 
which  is  engraved  the  theme  of  one  of  his  noblest 
songs,  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth." 
Shakspeare  stands  leaning  upon  a  pedestal  on 
which  appears  the  grand  and  sublime  utterance 
of  his  Prospero  in  the  Tempest : 

"The  cloud-capt  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  this  unsubstantial  pageant,  faded, 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind." 

A  sculptured  tablet  with  the  quaint  epitaph, 
"  O  rare  Ben  Johnson,"  is  the  memorial  of  that 
famed  poet.  Passing  into  the  north  transept, 
magnificent  monuments  and  statues  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Pit,  Fox,  Canning,  and  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton, and  a  host  of  the  great  names  of  England 


CHAPELS.  273 

and  the  world  surround  you  everywhere.     But 
the  most  interesting  portion  of  the  edifice  is 
found  in  the  chapels  which  commence  with  the 
Poet's  corner,  and  fill  up  the  space  in  the  south 
transept  of  the  cathedral.     In  the  chapel  of  St. 
Edward,  are  twenty  monuments  of  the  nobility 
of  England,  next  to  which  is  the  chapel  of  St. 
Nicholas,  with  a  large  altar  tomb  in  the  centre, 
to  the  memory  of  the  parents  of  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham.     But   the   great  wonder   of  this 
structure  is  the  chapel  of  Henry  VII.     It  was 
begun  in  1512  by  that  monarch,  who  was  buried 
in  the  place  not  long  after  its  completion.     A 
flight  of  steps  leads  to  it;  it  consists  of  a  cen- 
tral aisle,  with  five  smaller  chapels  at  the  end. 
The  principal  object  is  the  lofty  tomb  of  Henry 
VII  and  his  queen,  Elizabeth.     It  is  admirably 
executed,  and  ornamented  with   the  statues  of 
saints.     Upon  a  slab  of  black  marble  lie  the 
efligies  of  the  royal  pair.     As  we  pass  around 
the  chapel,  we  notice  the  noble  monuments  of 
Queen  Elizabeth ;  of  the  two  princes  murdered 
by  Richard;  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots;  of  Mar- 
garet  Douglass,  the   mother  of  Lord    Darnley. 
1.°. 


274  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Here,  too,  are  laid  the  remain-  of  George  II  and 
Caroline,  whose  ashes  lie  mingled  in  one  com- 
mon grave.  The  stalls  of  the  chapel  are  of 
richly  carved  oak.  Passing  away  from  this 
mausoleum  of  the  mighty  dead,  we  visit  the 
chapel  of  St.  Paul,  with  its  altar  tomb  of  Ludo- 
wick  Robsart,  the  standard-bearer  of  Edward  V 
at  the  battle  of  Agincourt.  and  beautiful  statues 
of  Bramley.  the  privy  counsellor  of  the  queen  at 
the  trial  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  and  of  Watt, 
whose  genius  has  made  his  name  immortal. 

The  chapel  of  Edward  the  Confessor  is  rich 
in  historic  recollections.  His  mausoleum,  is  in 
the  centre  of  the  chapel,  anil  surrounding  it  are 
the  tombs  of  Edward  I  and  III,  Henry  III  and 
V,  Philip,  and  Eleanor,  the  noble  consort  of 
Edward  I. 

Just  opposite  the  Abbey  is  the  vast  pile  of 
buildings  devoted  to  the  use  of  the  British  Par- 
liament,  and  where  we  had  the  pleasure  of  lis- 
teninor  to  an  interesting  debate  in  the  House  of 
Lords  upon  the  India  Question. 

The  arrangement  of  the  House  differs  greatly 
from  that  of  our  noble  Capitol  at  Washington. 


HOUSES    OF   PARLIAMENT.  275 

The  seats  are  on  either  side  of  the  presiding 
officer,  who  occupies  the  woolsack,  behind  which 
is  the  throne  appropriated  to  her  majesty  in  her 
visits  to  the  House  of  Lords.  The  new  Houses 
of  Parliament  stand  upon  the  Thames,  and  have 
a  river  front  of  nine  hundred  feet.  They  are  mag- 
nificent buildings,  well  worthy  the  nation  whose 
government  here  has  its  centre.  There  are  three 
principal  towers,  the  largest  and  most  imposing 
of  which  is  the  Victoria  tower,  through  which 
her  majesty  enters  the  building,  and  which  com- 
municates with  the  Norman  porch,  so  called 
from  the  frescoe  illustrations  of  the  history  of 
the  Norman  kings.  If  we  pass  eastward  from 
this  point  down  the  Strand,  and  the  streets  that 
are  its  continuation,  and  turn  down  a  narrow 
court  to  the  right,  we  come  to  the  famous  Tem- 
ple, the  home  of  the  legal  profession  for  genera- 
tions. Here  are  quiet  nooks  where  for  ages  the 
great  men  of  England  lived  and  thought.  Here 
Chaucer  wrote,  Raleigh  studied,  Goldsmith  lived 
and  died,  and  Cooke,  Seldon,  Beaumont,  Burke, 
Johnson,  and  Cooper  achieved  an  immortality 
of  fame.     Here  stands  the  Temple  church,  occu- 


276  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

pied  by  the  benchers  and  students  of  law,  and 
rich  with  its  quaint  monuments  of  the  old 
knights  who  founded  the  church  in  the  year 
1185.  The  choral  services  here  are  said  to  be 
unsurpassed  in  London.  Emerging  from  this 
spot,  we  pause  at  Temple  Bar,  the  only  relic  of 
the  old  London  Wall  in  this  direction.  This  is 
the  western  boundary  of  the  city  built  by  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  and  having  in  niches,  statues 
of  Elizabeth  and  James  I,  and  Charles  I  and  II. 
Here  the  heads  of  executed  traitors  used  to  be 
hung  until  as  late  as  1773. 

On  certain  occasions  a  sort  of  child's  play  is 
acted  here  by  Royalty  and  the  Lord  Mayor  of 
London.  The  Queen,  on  driving  toward  the 
city,  finds  the  gates  closed  against  her,  the  her- 
ald then  sounds  a  trumpet,  when  the  Lord 
Mayor  and  Corporation  demand  her  pleasure — 
on  being  informed  that  the  Queen  wishes  to 
enter  the  city,  these  very  worthy  gentlemen 
proceed  to  give  her  the  keys,  the  gates  fly  open, 
and  the  procession  moves  on.  The  chief  differ- 
ence between  this  ceremony  and  that  sometimes 
enacted  by  the  aldermen  of  our  own  metropolis, 


BUSINESS    HAUNTS.  277 

of  presenting  a  stranger  with  the  freedom  of  the 
city,  is  that,  in  London  it  is  part  of  a  time-hon- 
ored custom,  and  performed  with  the  dignity 
and  respect  which  becomes  a  noble  queen,  and  a 
nobler  woman,  while  with  us  the  whole  thing 
is  a  farce,  too  often  followed  by  scenes  of  riot 
and  drinking,  which  do  not  disgrace  the  actors 
in  it  simply  because  they  are  already  sunk  so 
low,  as  to  make  it  impossible  to  sink  lower  in 
the  regard  of  the  public. 

Passing  from  Temple  Bar,  we  enter  upon  the 
haunts  of  business,  where  every  step  we  take 
recalls  to  us  some  new  idea  of  the  immense 
wealth  of  this  mighty  city.  Yonder  is  the 
Bank  of  England,  covering  an  area  of  eight 
acres  of  ground,  with  its  buildings  and  offices, 
giving  employment  to  eight  hundred  clerks, 
whose  annual  salaries  amount  to  about  $1,100,- 
000.  Hard  by  is  the  Royal  Exchange,  in  the 
front  of  which  stands  an  equestrian  statue  of 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  from  which  centre 
the  commerce  of  the  world  is  regulated.  Turn 
where  we  will  at  this  point,  we  enter  streets 
whose  names  are  the  very  synonymes  of  busi- 


278  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

ness.     There  is  Cornlrill  glittering  with  jewelry 

shops,  and  Leadenhall  street,  where  stand  the 
massive  buildings  of  the  East  India  Company, 
and  in  a  narrow  passage  called  Capel  street,  is 
the  Stock  Exchange,  with  its  gamblers,  its  lame 
ducks,  its  bulls,  and  its  bears.  Passing  onward 
toward  the  Thames,  we  come  under  the  shadow 
of  Old  St.  Paul's,  only  one  hundred  feet 
shorter  than  St.  Peter's  of  Rome — modelled 
after  that  famous  structure,  and  filled  with  sta- 
tues of  the  great  men  of  England.  Its  interior 
loses  much  of  its  effect  by  the  screen  which 
shuts  off  one  of  the  naves  of  the  church  for  the 
purpose  of  religious  services  which  are  held 
here  daily.  Turning  out  of  our  way  a  moment, 
to  visit  an  ancient  church  in  Bread  street,  we 
pause  to  read  an  inscription  upon  its  side,  which 
informs  us  that  in  that  old  church  Milton  was 
baptized.  The  graceful  eulogy  of  Dry  den  is 
added  beneath  this  notice : 

"  Three  poets  in  three  distant  ages  born, 
Greece,  Italy,  and  England  did  adorn  : 
The  first  in  loftiness  of  thought  surpassed  ; 
The  next  in  majesty ;  in  both  the  last : 
The  force  of  nature  could  no  farther  go, 
To  make  the  third  she  joined  the  other  two." 


THE    TOWER.  279 

As  we  pass  on,  we  pause  to  look  in  upon 
another  ancient  and  venerable  church,  whose 
chimes  are  ringing  now  as  they  were  when 
Whittington  heard  them— the  old  chimes  of 
Bow-bells  — which  still  seem  to  say,  "Turn 
again,  Whittington,  Lord  Mayor  of  London." 
Making  our  way  through  endless  mazes  of 
streets,  we  come  to  the  monument  built  to  com- 
memorate the  great  fire  which  once  swept  over 
this  part  of  the  city.  Passing  still  onward,  we 
come  at  length  to  the  Tower,  whose  history  is 
almost  the  history  of  England,  so  intimately  is 
it  connected  with  the  scenes  which  have  marked 
its  grand  events.  Obtaining  tickets  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  grounds,  we  are  guided  by  a  per- 
son dressed  in  the  style  of  a  beef-eater  of  the 
olden  time.  It  is  useless  to  attempt  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  emotions  which  stir  within  a  man 
who  has  English  blood  in  his  veins,  and  who 
has  read  the  history  of  that  nation,  as  he  enters 
this  spot.  Once  a  fortress,  then  a  palace,  then 
a  prison,  and  now  the  grand  state  show-house 
of  England — we  are  carried  back  to  the  dawn 
of  her  national  greatness.     Yonder,  by  the  veiy 


280  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

gate  at  which  we  enter,  were  found  the  bodies 
of  the  murdered  princes  sacrificed  to  the  am- 
bition of  Richard  III.  There  stand  the  effi- 
gies of  warriors,  in  the  armor  and  dress  of  every 
age.  Yonder  is  the  chapel  before  whose  altar 
are  buried  the  wives  of  Henry  VIII,  who  fell 
by  the  axe,  victims  of  his  cruel  jealousy.  Here 
are  the  tombs  of  Essex,  who  was  the  favorite  of 
Elizabeth;  and  Lady  Jane  Grey  and  her  hus- 
band. Here  is  the  dungeon  where  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  was  confined,  and  just  before  it  is  the 
block  on  which  poor  Anne  Boleyn,  and  others, 
laid  their  heads,  and  the  marks  of  the  axe  are 
still  upon  it.  In  the  Beauchamp  tower  are  the 
autographs  of  many  of  the  prisoners  who  were 
brought  here  to  await  their  death.  Here  the 
Earl  of  Warwick  wrote  his  name,  and  the  Duke 
of  Clarence,  and  underneath  is  the  word  Jane, 
placed  there  by  the  gentle  Lady  Jane  Grey. 
Yonder  the  two  princes  were  murdered,  and 
there  the  Duke  of  Clarence  was  drowned  in  a 
butt  of  Malmsey  wine.  The  arrangement  of 
ancient  arms  cannot  fail  to  interest  the  visitor. 
Every  conceivable  weapon  of  offence  and  de- 


RECOLLECTIONS.  281 

fence,  from  the  earliest  ages  to  the  present  time, 
line  the  walls,  and  are  so  placed  as  to  produce 
a  most  pleasing  effect.  It  would  seem  impossi- 
ble that  such  objects  could  be  placed  in  such 
beautiful  combinations.  They  are  an  epitome 
of  warlike  engines  of  every  age  and  nation — 
the  armor  of  mail,  the  battle-axe,  the  spear,  the 
lance,  the  pike,  and  the  halberd  of  the  middle 
ages,  are  here  contrasted  with  the  splendid  arms 
of  the  present  time.  There  is  a  spell  about  this 
wonderful  building  which  seems  to  shut  out  the 
present  and  bear  one  backward  along  the  stream 
of  time  to  the  dark  and  shadowy  past.  You 
think  of  it  as  a  fortress  when  it  stood  as  the  de- 
fence of  its  monarch,  not  against  the  assaults  of 
a  foreign  foe,  but  the  shock  of  internal  convul- 
sions. It  was  the  centre  of  power  when  Ste- 
phen usurped  the  throne,  and  John  and  Ed- 
ward II  and  Richard  II.  It  was  the  object  of 
strife  when  Charles  I  and  his  Parliament  began 
the  contest,  which  ended  with  his  life,  and 
through  all  these  revolutions  it  remained  im- 
pregnable. Then  the  scene  changes,  and  we 
think  of  it  as  a  palace,  and  try  to  reproduce  the 


282  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

scenes  which  have  here  been  witnessed.  Here 
were  held  the  magnificent  royal  festivities  of 
Henry  III  and  Eleanor.  From  this  spot  Bich- 
ard  II  went  forth  in  white  robes  to  be  crowned 
at  Westminster  Abbey,  and  returned  again  only 
at  length  to  resign  his  crown  into  the  hands  of 
his  uncle,  and  to  die  a  violent  death.  Here, 
gay  and  brilliant  tournaments  were  held  in  the 
time  of  Henry  VII.  From  this  spot  his  Queen 
Elizabeth,  of  York,  passed  to  her  coronation  in 
splendid  robes  of  white  and  gold,  and  again 
was  carried  forth  in  a  shroud.  In  these  halls, 
Henry  VIII  welcomed  his  six  queens  with  won- 
derful and  brilliant  entertainments.  Here  came 
Anne  Boleyn,  escorted  by  a  splendid  civic  pro- 
cession, and  in  three  short  years,  after  having 
been  pronounced  guilty  of  a  crime  of  which  his- 
tory acquits  her  fully,  she  lifted  up  her  eyes  to 
heaven  and  said,  "O  Father!  O  Father!  Thou 
who  art  the  Truth  and  the  Life !  Thou  knowest 
I  have  not  deserved  this  death."  Here  she  laid 
her  head  upon  the  block,  and  closed  her  short 
but  brilliant  career.  Here  the  bloody  Mary 
held  her  court,  and  here  Elizabeth  was  wel- 


THE    TOWER    AS    A    PRISON.  283 

coined  to  the  throne.  From  a  palace  to  a  pri- 
son is  a  strong  contrast,  yet  it  is  here  presented 
to  the  mind  in  all  its  startling  power.  Yonder 
is  the  traitor's  gate,  beneath  whose  dark  and 
gloomy  portals,  genius  and  greatness  and  royalty 
have  passed  from  all  the  dreams  of  ambition, 
from  the  gaiety  and  splendor  of  the  court  to  the 
prison,  the  fetter,  the  faggot,  and  the  block. 
Here  the  terrible  tragedies  of  Richard  Ill's 
reign  Merc  enacted.  Jane  Shore  was  immured 
within  these  walls,  and  released  only  to  die  in 
poverty  and  suffering,  and  when  the  first  glim- 
mering light  of  the  Reformation  dawned  on 
England,  this  place  became  the  instrument  of 
Popish  tyranny  and  cruelty.  Cobham  was  shut 
up  here  before  he  was  burnt  at  St.  Giles',  and 
Cranmer,  Ridley,  and  Latimer  were  prisoners 
in  this  tower  before  they  were  burned  at  Ox- 
ford. But  we  must  leave  these  scenes  and 
memories,  after  glancing  at  the  splendid  regalia 
in  the  jewel-room,  used  by  the  sovereigns  of 
England  at  their  Coronation  and  on  State  occa- 
sions. Here  is  the  anointing  spoon  of  the  an- 
cient regalia,  and  the  crown  of  Charles  II,  with 


284  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

that  of  Victoria,  and  the  one  to  be  used  by  her 
son,  when  he  shall  come  to  the  throne.  Leav- 
ing this  spot,  where  every  object  is  of  intense 
interest,  we  visit  the  tunnel  under  the  Thames, 
useless,  almost,  except  as  a  mart  for  the  sale  of 
curiosities;  and,  emerging  from  this  wonderful 
work,  we  take  one  of  the  small  steamers  which 
ply  upon  the  river,  and  visit  Greenwich  with 
its  far-famed  Observatory,  from  which  the  nau- 
tical time  of  the  world  is  calculated. 

Taking  the  cars  to  the  Crystal  Palace  at  Sy- 
denham, the  train  lands  us  under  a  vast  saloon, 
from  which  a  flight  of  stairs  leads  directly  to  the 
main  building.  The  grounds  are  laid  out  with 
fine  taste,  and  the  fountains  are  magnificent. 
One  half  of  the  Palace  is  devoted  to  ancient  art 
and  sculpture,  and  the  other  half  to  all  the 
modern  forms  of  architecture,  science  and  skill. 
The  great  transept  is  decorated  with  gigantic 
equestrian  statues,  fountains,  flowers  and  trees ; 
while  on  either  hand  are  perfect  reproductions 
of  the  architecture  of  every  age.  Here  is  a 
house  of  Pompeii,  and  there  an  Egyptian  court, 
further  on  is  one  of  Greece  and  Rome,  Assyria 


BRITISH    MUSEUM.  285 

and  the  Alhambra,  On  every  side  are  magnifi* 
cent  decorations,  and  works  of  art  and  taste, 
which  afford  themes  of  study  for  days  and 
weeks. 

Returning  to  the  city  to  take  a  fresh  start 
westward,  and,  passing  through  St.  James's 
Square,  where  stands  the  palace  of  the  queen, 
we  arrive  at  Regent's  Park,  where  we  spend 
half  a  day  in  looking  through  the  numer- 
ous collections  of  animals,  which  are  finely  ar- 
ranged at  the  Zoological  Gardens,  and  are 
provided  with  the  climate  and  scenery  of  their 
native  lands.  Every  variety  of  bird,  reptile, 
and  animal  is  here  to  be  met  with.  The  vulture 
and  eagle  have  their  rocks  and  trees  in  which 
they  are  wont  to  build  their  nests.  The  trout 
swims  in  his  own  clear  stream  of  running  water ; 
the  crocodile  basks  upon  the  sand  by  the  water's 
edge ;  while  the  huge  hippopotamus  sports  at 
the  bottom  of  the  pool  prepared  for  his  home. 

The  whole  of  this  vast  garden  is  a  noble 
monument  of  skill,  wealth  and  intelligence.  But 
the  British  Museum,  which  claims  our  attention, 
surpasses  even  this  in  its  vast  and  varied  trea- 


286  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

wtmm  of  knowledge.     It  is  a  grand  lepoaUory 

of  every  curiosity  of  nature  and  of  an.  of  the 

past  and  the  present.  Immense  halls  are  devot- 
ed to  Egyptian,  Assyrian.  Grecian  and  Roman 
antiquities.  The  Library  i-  a  magnificent  col- 
lection of  typographical  curiosities,  containing 
works  of  rare  beauty  and  value,  manuscripts  of 
great  antiquity,  and  specimens  of  every  form  of 
printing. 

The  Reading  Room  is  a  vast  circular  Hall. 
3  Mid  only  to  the  Pantheon,  and  fitted  up  with 
a  library  of  S'J.OOO  volumes,  and  reading  desks 
for  300  persons.  Here  men  of  literature  may 
come  and  investigate  and  study,  with  as  much 
quiet  as  if  in  their  own  homes.  We  cannot  look 
over  this  splendid  Museum,  and  not  obtain  a 
new  evidence  of  the  wealth  and  grandeur  of  a 
nation  which  can  make  such  arrangements  for 
the  intellectual  wants  of  the  people. 

But  it  were  utterly  useless  to  attempt  any- 
thing like  a  full  description  of  London.  My 
last  Sabbath  evening  was  spent  in  hearing  one 
of  its  celebrated  preachers.  Dr.  Cumming  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church.     I  went   early,  and  was 


HAMPTON    COURT.  287 

shown  to  a  comfortable  seat  at  once,  although 
usually  strangers  are  compelled  to  wait  until  the 
pew-holders  are  seated.  A  vast  throng  were 
gathered  together  and  listened  with  fixed  atten- 
tion to  a  noble  discourse  from  the  Pastor.  After 
service  I  sent  my  card  to  the  Dr.,  and  was  in- 
vited into  his  study,  where  I  spent  a  pleasant 
half  hour  with  him  in  speaking  of  the  prospects 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  England,  and  of 
the  evidence  of  the  success  of  the  efforts  of  its 
ministers  and  people. 

Leaving  London  by  the  cars,  we  visit  Hamp- 
ton Court,  which  was  built  by  Cardinal  Wolsey 
in  the  height  of  his  glory  and  power.  The 
Palace  covers  about  eight  acres,  and  has  room 
for  the  accommodation  of  several  thousands  of 
guests.  The  j)ictures  alone,  as  they  are  arrang- 
ed in  long  halls,  number  more  than  one  thou- 
sand, and  a  pamphlet  of  nearly  one  hundred 
pages  is  necessary  to  give  even  a  general  outline 
of  the  objects  of  historic  interest  which  every- 
where present  themselves.  The  gardens  and 
walks  are  of  great  extent  and  beauty. 

Returning  from  this  spot  to  London,  we  take 


Z55  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  cars  for  Windsor,  and  are  set  down  within 
a  few  minutes  walk  of  the  Castle,  one  of  the  re- 
sidences of  the  Queen.  Its  history  dates  back 
to  the  time  of  the  Saxon  Kings.  William  the 
Conqueror  built  a  noble  structure,  and  succeed- 
ing kings  enlarged,  strengthened  and  beautified 
it,  until  it  rose  to  its  present  shape  and  size. 
Edward  III  was  born  here,  and  erected,  for  the 
order  of  the  Garter,  the  Chapel  of  St.  George, 
which  was  afterwards  replaced  by  the  present 
church.  This  is  a  ^most  interesting  spot,  filled 
with  the  tombs  and  memorials  of  the  mighty 
dead.  Edward  IV  is  buried  here ;  and  here  lie 
the  ashes  of  George  III  and  Queen  Charlotte, 
with  all  the  succeeding  monarchs  and  members 
of  the  royal  family.  A  portion  of  the  Castle  is 
devoted  to  a  collection  of  works  of  historical  in- 
terest, and  to  some  fine  paintings  by  the  ancient 
masters. 

Leaving  Windsor  Castle,  we  cross  the  Thames 
in  sight  of  the  famous  Eton  College,  and  arrive 
at  Oxford,  the  great  seat  of  learning  and  liter- 
ature. In  the  reign  of  Alfred,  Oxford  was  a 
place  for  schools.     Here  Wickliffe  taught  and 


OXFORD.  289 

Latimer,  Ridley  and  Cranmer  died  for  the  faith. 
A  cross  in  one  of  the  streets  marks  the  spot 
where  the  stake  stood,  and  a  fine  monument 
near  at  hand  commemorates  the  event.  There 
are  twenty  colleges,  and  five  halls,  many  of  great 
antiquity,  in  this  city.  The  grounds  around 
them  are  everything  an  English  student  could 
wish.  Our  guide,  whose  breath  told  of  a  very 
strong  preference  for  English  beer,  with  a  slight 
disposition  to  brandy  and  whiskey,  took  us 
through  every  part  of  the  College  that  was 
worth  seeing,  even  to  the  dining-room  and 
kitchen.  We  looked  over  the  Parks  with  their 
fine  herds  of  deer,  belonging  to  the  "  fellows," 
and  they  are  the  only  dears  they  are  allowed  to 
have  while  they  retain  their  fellowship,  for  they 
must  remain  bachelors.  Here  Addison  walked 
and  studied,  and  here  many  a  noble  British 
scholar  has  lived  and  thought  and  prepared  for 
himself  an  undying  feme. 

Leaving  Oxford,  we  pass  to  Stratford  on 
Avon,  the  home  of  Shakspeare.  As  I  entered 
the  omnibus  I  directed  the  conductor  to  set  us 
down  at  the  oldest  inn  in  the  town.     I  felt  that  in 


290  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

such  a  place  nothing  new  should  be  seen  on  the 
errand  on  which  I  was  coming.  We  were 
dropped  at  the  Red  Horse  Inn,  the  very  spot  of 
all  others  I  could  have  wished  to  make  my  home. 
Nothing  could  be  more  comfortable  than  that 
cosy  chamber  into  which  I  was  shown,  and 
where  I  lay  down  to  sleep,  and  when  I  arose 
early  the  next  morning,  and  entered  the  snug 
parlor,  the  first  book  on  which  I  laid  my  hand 
was  the  Sketch  Book  of  Washington  Irving, 
and  as  I  opened  to  his  description  of  Stratford 
on  Avon,  I  found  that  I  was  in  the  same  inn  and 
the  same  parlor  in  which  he  wrote  it.  Our  first 
visit  was  to  the  birth-place  of  Shakspeare, 
which,  as  in  the  days  of  Irving,  was  shown  by 
a  garrulous  female  who  usually  succeeds  in  dis- 
posing of  a  number  of  relics  of  Stratford,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  entrance  fee  which  she  receives.  The 
old  chair  of  Shakspeare  is  still  shown,  which, 
although  it  has  passed  through  many  changes 
of  seats  and  sides,  is  still  looked  on  as  a  sacred 
relic  of  the  immortal  poet.  But  there  is  no 
doubt  as  to  the  house  where  the  Bard  of  Avon 
first  saw  the  light.     Turning  away  towards  the 


STRATFORD    ON    AVON.  291 

old  church,  we  pass  the  Guild  Hall,  in  a  niche 
of  whose  walls  is  a  statue  of  the  Poet,  leaning 
upon  his  hand,  and  pointing  to  a  scroll,  on 
which  are  the  beautiful  words  of  his  Midsum- 
mer Night's  Dream — 

"  The  Poet's  eye,  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling, 

Doth  glance  from  Heav'n  to  Earth,  from  Earth  to  Heav'n, 

And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

The  form  of  things  unknown,  the  Poet's  pen 

Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 

A  local  habitation  and  a  name.'' 

Upon  the  border  of  the  base  of  the  statue  are 
the  words — 

"  Take  him  for  all  in  all, 

We  ne'er  shall  look  upon  his  like  again." 

Passing  by  the  school  house  where  he  was  ed- 
ucated, we  turn  down  towards  the  gently  sloping 
banks  of  the  Avon,  where  stands  the  old  church 
in  which  the  boy  Shakspeare  worshipped,  and 
where  the  immortal  Poet  is  buried.  Long  ave- 
nues of  dark  trees  lead  from  the  main  road  to 
the  sacred  edifice  around  whose  venerable  tower 
the  rooks  and  swallows  are  flying  in  countless 
numbers.  Here,  amid  many  monuments,  is 
the  tomb  of  Shakspeare.  Upon  the  wall  his 
bust  is  placed,  and  beneath  a  simple  slab  his  re- 


292  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

mains  are  laid.     Upon  the  slab  are  the  well 
known  words : 

Good  friend,  for  Jesus'  sake  forbeare 
To  digg  the  dust  enclosed  heare  ; 
Blest  be  ye  man  yt  spares  these  stones, 
And  curst  be  he  yt  moves  my  bones." 

Turning  from  the  scene,  a  short  ride  brings 
us  to  the  cottage  of  Ann  Hathaway,  where 
Shakspeare  found  his  wife.  It  is  a  plain  and 
rude  dwelling,  but  there  is  a  charm  thrown 
around  the  spot.  We  enter  it,  and  find  the  old 
settle  on  which  he  used  to  rest,  and  sit  down  in 
the  broad  chimney,  where  he  doubtless  often  sat 
and  whiled  away  his  evening  with  the  young 
object  of  his  love.  A  descendant  of  the  Hatha- 
way family  still  lives  there,  although  the  place 
has  passed  out  of  their  hands.  Taking  the 
mail  stage  toward  Warwick,  we  pass  the  grounds 
of  the  Lacy  family,  before  one  of  whose  an- 
cestors the  young  Shakspeare  is  said  to  have 
been  brought  for  deer-stalking,  and  whom  he 
has  immortalized  as  his  Justice  Shallow,  in  the 
"Merry  Wives  of  Windsor."  As  we  rode  by 
the  spot,  a  crowd  of  deer  were  roaming  over  the 
woodlands,  bringing  forcibly  to  our  mind  the 


KENILWORTH.  293 

scenes  in  the  life  of  the  Poet  which  drove  him 
forth  to  London,  where  his  career  as  a  dramatist 
began.  Passing  through  scenery,  which  is  the 
very  perfection  of  an  English  landscape,  we  reach 
Warwick  with  its  noble  castle,  and  Kenilworth 
with  its  magnificent  rains,  the  scene  of  one  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  works  and  possessing  a  deep  in- 
terest in  its  associations  with  the  age  of  Eliza- 
beth. We  paused  here  for  a  few  hours,  to  visit 
this  spot  and  refresh  our  minds  with  its  memo- 
ries ;  thence  by  rail  to  Coventry,  through  which 
poor  Jack  Falstaff  was  ashamed  to  march  his 
ragged  army ;  to  York,  an  ancient  and  venerable 
town,  with  a  noble  Cathedral,  and  many  inter- 
esting monuments  of  the  past.  Another  day  of 
travel  through  a  region  filled  with  manufactories 
of  iron,  and  cities  and  towns  which  are  thriving 
and  busy,  and  rapidly  growing  in  wealth  and 
jDopulation,  and  we  come  to  the  borders  of  Scot- 
land, where  we  rest  for  the  night.  We  wonder 
not  that  the  Englishman  is  fond  of  his  country. 
We  love  to  think  that  with  him  we  have  a  com- 
mon interest  and  origin.  We  can  respond 
Anion  to  the  prayer  that  daily  goes  up  from 


294  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

thousands  of  hearts,  "God  save  the  Queen." 
Every  step  we  have  taken  calls  us  back  to  a 
mighty  and  wonderful  past,  and  points  to  a  no- 
ble future.  Her  institutions,  and  her  govern- 
ment, bear  the  mark  of  strength  and  stability. 
Her  people  are  free.  Royalty  as  it  is  now  un- 
derstood, is  the  very  opposite  of  oppression  and 
tyranny.  The  evils  which  exist  will  disappear  in 
the  progress  of  a  sound  and  liberal  and  enlight- 
ened policy. 

May  the  time  never  come  when  we  shall  be 
aught  but  united  with  her  in  the  bonds  of  a 
firm  and  enduring  friendship.  The  Christian 
and  Scholar  will  love  England  for  all  that  she 
has  been  and  all  that  she  is.  Demagogues  may 
affect  to  despise  and  hate  her,  but  men  of 
thought,  and  who  reverence  the  great  and  good, 
will  remember  that,  amid  the  noblest  lights  of 
the  Church  and  the  State,  England's  sons  have 
ever  been  found.  Her  Poets  and  Orators,  her 
Heroes  and  Statesmen,  her  Sages,  her  Preachers 
and  her  Martyrs  have  made  for  themselves  names 
which  shall  ever  be  remembered.  Every  field 
has  a  story — every  hill  and  valley  bears  some 


ENGLAND.  295 

witness  to  the  past,  and  amid  many  a  tale  of 
shame  and  crime  and  oppression,  also  testifies  to 
the  power  of  truth,  the  light  of  the  Gospel,  the 
glory  of  the  Church,  and  the  Providence  of  God 
employed  in  her  behalf. 


XIII. 

SCOTLAND,  IRELAND  AND  HOME. 

THE  road  which  leads  from  Newcastle  to 
Berwick,  after  passing  for  several  miles  in 
full  view  of  the  German  Ocean,  at  length  crosses 
the  Tweed  upon  an  immense  bridge,  resting 
upon  twenty-eight  arches,  and  rising  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty-four  feet  in  height,  at  the  end  of 
which  lies  the  first  town  in  Scotland.  It  was 
for  long  years  the  scene  of  many  a  fierce  en- 
counter during  the  border  wars,  until  late  in  the 
fifteenth  century  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
English.  From  its  walls  we  had  a  noble  view 
of  the  sea,  and  the  Holy  Islands,  on  which  are 
the  ruins  of  the  ancient  abbey.  Leaving  Ber- 
wick for  the  north,  the  road  enters  a  country, 
every  hill  and  valley  of  which  is  full  of  historic 
interest,  while   presenting,    also,   many   a   rich 


SCOTTISH    SCENERY.  297 

natural  scene,  heightened  and  improved  by  labor 
and  taste.  Not  far  from  Berwick,  is  Halidon 
Hill,  where  the  English  defeated  the  Scotch  in 
the  year  1313.  Beyond  this  is  Norham  Castle, 
situated  upon  a  steep  bank  that  overhangs  the 
Tweed.  Here  is  laid  the  opening  scene  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  Marmion. 

"  Day  set  on  Norham's  castled  steep, 
And  Tweed's  fair  river  broad  and  deep." 

Not  far  from  this  spot  is  the  place  where 
Edward  I  met  the  nobility  of  Scotland  to  settle 
the  dispute  concerning  the  Scottish  crown,  be- 
tween Bruce  and  Baliol.  Still  beyond  is  the 
town  of  Coldstream,  whence  came  the  Cold- 
stream guards,  so  famous  in  the  wars  of  England. 
As  we  are  whirled  onward,  we  pass  at  brief  in- 
tervals majestic  ruins  and  lovely  country  seats, 
and  noble  old  castles  which  have  become  cele- 
1  >rated  by  the  traditions  of  the  nation,  or  the 
songs  of  its  poets.  Yonder  are  the  ruins  of 
Roxburg  Castle,  and  there  a  splendid  abbey 
once  stood,  and  the  lofty  walls  yet  tell  the  story 
of  its  beauty.  Upon  this  rocky  and  conspicuous 
elevation  stands  the  Smailholm  Tower— the 
14 


208  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

scene  of  Scott's  Eve  of  St.  John,  and  beautifully 
described  in  one  of  his  introductory  epistles  to 
Marmion — 

'•  A  barren  scene  and  wild 
Where  huge  cliffs  were  rudely  piled, 
But  ever  and  anon  between, 
Lay  velvet  tufts  of  loveliest  green." 

Passing  onward  a  few  miles  we  are  dropped 
at  the  Melrose  station,  a  short  walk  from  the 
old  abbey,  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  gothic 
architecture  in  Scotland.  We  are  met  at  the 
depot  by  a  Scotch  Mend  who  had  come  from 
Edinburgh  to  welcome  us,  and  wdiose  kind  atten- 
tions wre  shall  not  soon  forget.  Our  first  visit 
was  to  the  abbey.  The  church  is  the  only  part 
which  now  remains ;  the  best  preserved  parts  of 
Avhich  are  the  choir  and  transept.  The  whole 
of  the  vast  fabric  is  profusely  decorated  with 
rich  and  elaborate  carvings.  Its  windows  and 
arches,  and  doorways,  grand  even  in  their  ruins, 
tell  us  plainly,  at  what  expense,  and  with  what 
skill  this  edifice  was  reared.  The  abbey  owes 
much  of  its  celebrity  to  the  Scottish  bard  who 
has  in  his  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel  described 
with  all  his  wondrous   power  the  beautifully 


MELROSE    ABBEY.  299 

fretted  roof,  and  the  whole  scene  that  opens  to 
the  eye  as  we  stand  and  look  up  at  these  mas- 
sive ruins.  In  the  church  yard  one  of  the  finest 
views  of  the  abbey  is  obtained,  and  this  is  the 
point  from  which  the  pictures  of  the  ruins  are 
usually  taken.  In  wandering  through  the  tombs 
that  fill  these  grounds,  I  noticed  a  stone  nearly 
100  years  old,  on  which  was  the  following  quaint 
but  striking  inscription : 

"  The  Earth  goeth  on  the  Earth, 
Glistening  like  gold — 
The  Earth  goeth  to  the  Earth 
Sooner  than  it  wold — 
The  Earth  builds  on  the  Earth 
Castles  and  towers — 
The  Earth  says  to  the  Earth, 
All  shall  be  ours.:' 

Leaving  this  scene  we  cross  the  Tweed  by  a 
slender  suspension  bridge  to  the  home  of  our 
friend  Mr.  Elliott ;  the  house  having  been  built 
and  once  occupied  by  Sir  David  Brewster.  The 
view  from  the  grounds  is  one  of  great  beauty, 
presenting  a  rural  scene  of  hill  and  valley, 
mountain  and  stream,  that  impresses  itself  in- 
delibly upon  the  mind.  Here  a  warm  and 
friendly  Scotch  hospitality  awaited  us,  which 


300  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

we  find  ourselves  still  recalling  with  pleasure. 
Entering  the  family  carriage  after  dinner,  a  de- 
lightful drive  of  two  or  three  miles  brought  us 
to  Abbottsford,  the  former  home  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott.  The  house  is  full  of  interest,  as  connect- 
ed with  the  history  of  the  great  novelist.  The 
relics  which  he  had  collected  in  his  lifetime  are 
worthy  of  notice,  among  which  is  a  door  from 
the  old  Tolbooth  of  Edinburgh,  and  the  pulpit 
in  which  Ralph  Erskine  preached.  In  a  small 
closet  adjoining  the  study  are  the  clothes  which 
Sir  Walter  wore,  and  in  a  room  overlook- 
ing the  valley  of  the  Tweed,  he  breathed  hk 
last.  The  family  who  now  occupy  Abbottsford 
are  Roman  Catholics,  and  most  of  the  servants 
are  of  the  same  religious  belief.  But  we  found 
an  old  man  in  charge  of  some  jDart  of  the  grounds, 
who  was  a  Scotch  Presbyterian,  and  who  was  re- 
tained here  partly  from  his  long  connection  with 
the  place  and  the  family  of  Sir  Walter.  He 
spoke  feelingly  of  the  gradual  extinction  of  the 
line ;  the  only  living  grandchild  being  a  young 
girl  of  feeble  constitution,  so  that  the  probabil- 
ity was  strong  that  the  man  whose  great  dream 


EDINBURGH.  301 

was  to  leave  behind  him  a  long  line  of  descend- 
ants to  preserve  his  name  and  family,  would 
soon  have  none  in  whose  veins  his  blood  should 
flow.  Leaving  Abbottsford  and  the  noble  hills 
of  Eildon  behind  us,  we  pass  the  ruins  of 
Crichton  Castle,  described  so  beautifully  in 
Marmion,  and  the  stately  tower  of  Borthwick 
Castle,  and  at  length  coming  in  sight  of  Arthur's 
seat,  Anthony's  chapel  and  Holyrood,  are  whirl- 
ed through  a  tunnel  and  enter  the  station  of 
Edinburgh,  built  in  the  valley  between  the  new 
town  and  the  old,  and  lying  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  city,  and  within  a  moment's  walk  of  its 
principal  hotels.  I  was  at  Edinburgh  twice. 
On  my  first  visit  I  thought  it  was  the  finest 
city  I  had  yet  seen,  and  when  I  had  passed  over 
my  tour  on  the  continent  and  returned  to  the 
spot,  my  impressions  were  only  deepened,  that 
for  picturesque  beauty,  for  wondrous  historic  in- 
terest, for  its  noble  and  commanding  situation, 
for  its  strange  contrasts  of  modern  art  with  the 
grotesque  architecture  of  other  ages,  Edinburgh 
is  the  most  interesting  city  in  Europe. 

Delivering  some  letters  from  America,  I  found 


302  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

friends  whose  warm-hearted  hospitality  I  shall 
not  soon  forget.  To  Mr.  Oliphant  especially 
was  I  greatly  indebted  both  for  the  enjoyment 
of  pleasant  intercourse  with  his  family,  and  for 
his  personal  attentions  as  a  companion  in  my  ex- 
plorations of  the  scenes  in  and  around  the  city. 
Familiar  as  he  was  with  every  spot  that  history 
had  made  memorable,  I  found  myself  in  the  com- 
pany of  a  christian  gentleman,  ready  and  willing 
to  put  me  in  the  way  of  seeing  all  that  was  most 
of  interest  in  Edinburgh,  and  who  led  me  to 
places  which  I  had  wished  above  all  others  to 
see. 

The  city  is  surrounded  by,  and  built  upon 
hills,  which  add  greatly  to  its  beauty.  If  we 
take  a  position  at  the  old  palace  of  Holyrood, 
we  find  ourselves  in  a  valley  lying  at  the  foot 
of  several  elevations.  To  the  south  and  east  is 
a  mountain  almost  800  feet  in  height,  along 
which  are  the  famous  Salisbury  Craigs,  and 
around  its  base  is  the  Queen's  Drive.  Just  above 
us  to  the  north  lies  Calton  Hill,  crowned  with 
noble  monuments  to  Stuart,  Playfair,  Xelson  and 
Burns.     Looking  west  the  old  town  rises  like  a 


HOLY ROOD.  303 

wedge  with  its  thin  end  towards  us,  to  the 
height  of  400  feet,  where  stands  the  noble  old 
castle  of  Edinburgh.  On  either  side  of  this  hill, 
the  summit  of  which  is  the  famous  High  Street, 
is  a  valley,  that  to  the  right  being  the  Prince's 
Garden,  formed  by  drying  up  an  old  loch,  whose 
waters  divided  the  city,  and  that  on  the  left  be- 
ins;  the  old  Cow  Gate.  Let  us  enter  the  venera- 
ble  palace  of  Holyrood,  the  ancient  home  of  Scot- 
tish royalty.  It  is  built  in  the  form  of  a  quad- 
rangle, with  a  court  90  feet  square  in  the  centre. 
The  apartments  which  have  the  most  thrilling 
interest  are  those  of  Queen  Mary,  whose  char- 
acter and  history  have  thrown  a  charm  over  the 
whole  scene.  Ascend  the  stairs  and  you  enter 
the  chamber  of  the  unhappy  Queen,  which  has 
remained  unaltered  since  she  left  it.  Yonder 
through  that  low  door,  half  concealed  by  some 
old  tapestry,  is  the  cabinet  out  of  which  Rizzio 
was  dragged  and  murdered,  and  the  stains  of 
his  blood  still  darken  the  floor  of  the  hall.  On 
the  north  side  of  the  palace  are  the  ruins  of  the 
abbey  of  Holyrood,  founded  by  David  I  in 
1 128.     Charles  I  fitted  it  up  as  a  chapel  to  give 


304  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  Scotch  a  model  of  Episcopal  worship,  and 
was  here  crowned  in  1633.  James  II  arranged 
it  for  a  Roman  Catholic  chapel,  but  in  neither 
way  would  the  stern  Scotch  Presbyterians  be 
tempted  to  leave  their  chosen  form  of  worship. 
The  palace  of  Holyrood  became  the  chief  resi- 
dence of  Mary  on  her  return  from  France.  On 
the  first  Sunday  after  her  arrival  which  was  the 
anniversary  of  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew, 
preparations  were  made  to  have  mass  in  the 
Royal  Chapel.  When  this  was  known,  the  city 
was  everywhere  raised  against  the  attempt, 
again  to  introduce  the  Catholic  faith  into  Scot- 
land. It  required  the  utmost  effort  on  the  part 
of  some  of  the  leading  reformers  to  suppress 
the  tumult.  Among  those  who  sternly  resisted 
the  attempted  invasion  upon  the  Scottish  Creed 
was  John  Knox,  who,  in  all  his  interviews  with 
the  Queen,  showed  that  noble  and  manly  cour- 
age which  gained  for  him  at  his  grave  the  eu- 
logium,  "  Here  lies  he  who  never  feared  the  face 
of  man."  It  was  in  this  Palace  that  the  stern 
Reformer,  when  summoned  before  the  Queen 
for  his  bold  preaching  against  the  errors  of  her 


JOHN    KNOX.  305 

reign  and  of  the  Papacy,  so  laid  the  truth  home 
to  her  heart  that  she  wept,  and  exclaimed, 
"  Never  was  Prince  handled  as  I  am."  Here, 
when  she  sent  him  forth  to  the  ante-chamber 
where  her  ladies  were  in  waiting,  the  earnest 
reformer  began  a  religious  admonition,  of  which 
these  words  are  a  sample.  "  O,  fair  ladies,  how 
pleasing  is  this  life  of  yours,  if  it  would  abide 
forever,  and  then  that  in  the  end  you  pass  to 
Heaven  with  all  this  gay  gear.  But  fie  upon 
the  Knave  Death  that  will  come  whether  we 
will  or  not,  and  when  he  has  laid  on  his  arrest, 
the  foul  worm  will  be  busy  with  the  flesh  be  it 
never  so  fair  and  tender ;  and  the  silly  soul,  I 
fear,  shall  be  so  feeble  that  it  can  neither  carry 
with  it  gold,  garnishing,  glistening  pearl  nor 
precious  stones.'1  Who  could  curb  a  spirit  like 
that  of  Knox  ?  Who  can  wonder  that  to  this 
day  Scotland  feels  the  results  of  his  earnest  and 
manly  piety  and  zeal  ?  Let  us  pass  up  from  the 
Palace  through  the  famous  High  street,  present- 
ing scenes  utterly  in  contrast  to  these  once  wit- 
nessed here. 

That  old  building  with  a  projecting  story  and 
14* 


30G  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

a  stair-case  winding  up  from  the  street,  beneath 
which  is  a  gin  shop  and  a  tobacconist's  is  the 
old  home  of  John  Knox,  where  he  lived  and  died. 
Out  of  that  window  facing  the  Netherbow  he 
used  often  to  deliver  his  sermons  to  the  crowd 
in  the  street.  Over  the  door  is  the  inscrip- 
tion in  old  English,  "Love  God  above  all  and 
your  neighbor  as  yourself."  This  house  which, 
in  the  progress  of  improvement,  was  at  one 
time  devoted  to  destruction  has  been  purchased 
by  the  Free  Church  and  will  henceforth  remain 
a  sacred  relic  of  the  reformer.  Passing  upward 
from  this  point  we  pause  at  the  old  Parliament 
House,  now  devoted  to  the  judicial  business  of 
the  nation.  Upon  the  wall  in  the  lower  story 
hangs  the  original  draft  of  the  solemn  League 
and  Covenant  into  which  Scotland  entered 
against  any  invasion  of  her  right  to  worship 
(rod  according  to  the  dictates  of  a  conscience 
enlightened  by  His  Word.  Still  beyond,  there 
stands  the  venerable  church  of  St.  Giles,  where 
Knox  and  his  brethren  preached  the  doctrine  of 
the  reformation.  Here  was  the  scene  of  the  popu- 
lar outbreak  against  the  efforts  of  Charles  I,  to 


ST.    GILES7    CHURCH.  307 

force  the  prelatic  government  and  forms  upon 
the  Church  of  Scotland.  It  will  be  remembered 
that  at  the  Reformation  the  Scotch  Church  as- 
sumed the  Presbyterian  order  and  discipline  in 
harmony  with  the  Continental  Reformed  Church- 
es. Under  this  change  the  Catholic  Cathedrals 
fell  into  hands  of  the  Presbyterians,  where  they 
have  ever  since  remained,  and  many  of  the 
Priests  of  the  Catholic  Church  entered  into 
their  forms  and  doctrines.  When,  however, 
James  came  to  the  throne  of  England  with  his 
favorite  motto,  "  No  Bishop,  no  King,"  efforts 
were  made  to  brinsr  Scotland  under  the  Prelatic 
form  of  Church  order.  The  terrible  massacres 
accomplished  by  the  brutal  Claverhouse  and  his 
ruffians  were  part  of  this  mistaken  attempt.  When 
it  was  at  one  time  regarded  as  certain  that  Scot- 
land must  yield  and  the  Presbyterian  govern- 
ment be  destroyed,  a  Priest  was  appointed  to 
preach  in  St.  Giles1  and  read  the  new  Liturgy 
prepared  by  Bishop  Laud.  As  he  was  begin- 
ning his  unwelcome  and  intrusive  services,  Jenny 
Geddes,  who  could  bear  it  no  longer,  arose  and 
taking  up  the  stool  on  which  she  was  sitting 


308  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

threw  it  at  the  Priest's  head,  exclaiming,  "  Will 
you  say  mass  in  my  lug  V  This  was  the  signal 
for  revolt  which  was  followed  by  a  renewal  of 
the  solemn  League  and  Covenant,  and  ended  in 
the  entire  conviction  that  England  could  never 
dragoon  a  Scotchman  into  worshipping  God  in 
any  other  way  than  that  which  his  conscience 
would  approve.  In  this  Church  I  heard  a  ser- 
mon before  the  Lord  Hisdi  Commissioner  of  the 
Queen  at  the  meeting  of  the  General  Assembly. 
The  Earl,  who  is  a  member,  and  I  believe  an 
Elder  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  came  up  from 
Holyrood  in  royal  state  and  entered  the  throne 
pew  with  his  officers  and  pages,  while  the  Coun- 
cil, Judge  Provost,  <fec,  sat  around  the  gallery 
in  their  robes  of  office  and  white  wigs,  surround- 
ed by  the  officers  of  the  Assembly  in  fall  dress. 
The  Free  Church  whose  exodus  from  the  Estab- 
lished Church  presented  some  noble  evidences 
of  earnest  and  self-denying  attachment  to  prin- 
ciple, holds  its  meetings  of  assembly  in  a  new 
and  commodious  building,  nearly  opposite  the 
assembly  Hall  of  the  old  Kirk.  Passing  still 
upward  we  reach  the  Castle,  overlooking  the  city 


THE   CASTLE.  309 

and  occupying  the  summit  of  the  hill.  Its  po- 
sition is  one  of  exceeding  strength,  three  of  its 
sides  being  precipitous  and  rising  to  an  elevation 
of  393  feet.  Here  in  1093  died  Margaret  the 
Saxon  Queen.  Her  chapel  still  stands  in  per- 
fect preservation.  Yonder,  near  that  building, 
on  an  angle  of  the  wall  is  a  small  lookout  where 
Mary  used  to  take  her  work  and  sit  for  hours  in 
sight  of  that  splendid  scene  that  opened  before 
her  on  every  hand.  In  a  chamber  of  the  Castle 
her  son  first  saw  the  light,  and  eight  days  after 
was  let  down  that  fearful  precipice  in  a  basket 
and  carried  to  Stirling,  where  he  was  baptized 
by  John  Knox.  Here  too  is  the  Ancient  Eega- 
lia  of  Scotland,  the  Crown,  the  Sceptre  and  the 
Sword.  Retracing  our  steps  and  recrossing  the 
portcullis  and  esplanade,  we  turn  by  the  way  of 
High  Street  to  a  bridge  which  crosses  the  deep 
valley  known  as  Cow  Gate. 

Passing  down  the  grass  market  to  an  open 
square,  we  pause  at  the  spot  where  the  Coven- 
anters were  hung  for  their  adherance  to  the 
principles  of  the  Church  of  Scotland.  Ascend- 
ing from  this  point  we  enter  the  old  churchyard 


310  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

of  Gray  Friars.  Here  the  solemn  League  and 
Covenant  was  signed,  and  yonder  monument 
marks  the  graves  and  honors  the  memory  of  the 
Covenanters  who  fell  victims  to  prelatic  power 
and  intolerance.  Retracing  our  steps  we  cross 
High  Street,  and  standing  for  a  moment  on  the 
bridge,  which  connects  it  with  the  new  Town, 
look  down  upon  the  scene  ben  eat  h  and  around 
us.  There  at  the  entrance  of  this  valley  is  the 
Station  of  the  Xorth  British  Railway.  Between 
this  and  the  next  bridge  is  the  market,  and 
beyond  that  the  beautiful  terraces  of  the  Prin- 
ces' gardens.  Behind  us  rise  the  tall  and  an- 
tique houses  of  the  old  Town,  above  which  we 
see  the  spires  of  the  Free  Church  and  the 
Assembly  Hall  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  and  the 
venerable  tower  of  St.  Giles.  Before  us  lies 
Calton  Hill  with  its  monuments  and  the  modern 
and  beautiful  structures  of  the  new  city.  Enter- 
ing Princes  street  we  have  a  fine  view  of  ancient 
Edinburgh  from  Holyrood  to  the  Castle.  One 
side  of  this  street  only  is  built  up,  the  other 
opening  to  the  beautiful  gardens  which  occupy 
the  place  of  the   old    loch.     Here    stand   the 


Arthur's  seat.  311 

superb  monument  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  the 
National  Gallery,  a  beautiful  building  of  the 
Ionic  order,  built  as  a  school  of  design,  and  for 
the  exhibition  of  works  of  art. 

Passing  northward,  we  come  into  a  broad  and 
magnificent  avenue  filled  with  tasteful  buildings 
squares,  fountains,  and  statues.  Beyond  this 
we  descend  again  toward  a  romantic  valley  in 
which  stands  a  fountain  known  as  St.  Bernard's 
Well,  and  through  which  flows  a  small  stream 
called  the  Water  of  Leith.  If  now  we  enter  a 
carriage  and  turn  eastward,  passing  across  to 
High  street,  and  then  down  toward  Holy  rood, 
through  the  lower  suburbs  of  the  town,  we  soon 
emerge  into  the  country,  and  whirling  along  the 
Queen's  drive  look  up  toward  Arthur's  seat 
and  Salisbury  Craigs,  and  ascending  that  beauti- 
ful eminence  obtain  a  magnificent  view  of  hill 
and  valley,  and  sea,  and  city,  and  hamlet,  which 
make  up  the  scenery  of  Edinburgh.  Yonder 
are  the  ruins  of  Craigmiller  Castle,  where  the 
Earl  of  Mar  was  imprisoned,  and  where  Queen 
Mary  often  made  her  home.  At  our  feet  lies  a 
romantic  loch,  and  as  we  pass  onward  we  find 


312  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

another  beautiful  sheet  of  water  wholly  em 
bosomed  in  hills.  Turning  northward  we  see 
the  Frith  of  Forth,  with  Leith  and  Granton,  and 
the  old  fishing  village  of  New  Haven,  whose 
women,  in  their  quaint  dresses,  form  one  of  the 
curiosities  of  the  Edinburgh  markets.  Yonder  by 
that  pile  of  stones  (Musket's  cairn)  which  we  are 
passing,  EffieDeans,  the  heroine  of  the  "  Heart  of 
Midlothian,"  used  to  meet  the  ruffian  Robertson. 
That  low  ruin  to  the  left  is  St.  Anthony's  Chap- 
el, and  still  beyond,  as  we  approach  the  town 
from  the  circuit  of  the  Queen's  drive,  is  the  cot- 
tage of  the  old  Laird  of  Duinbidykes  and  the 
home  of  Jeanie  Deans,  from  whose  garden  we 
pause  to  pluck  a  flower,  as  a  souvenir  of  the 
place. 

But  time  would  fail  to  speak  of  Edinburg  as 
its  intense  interest  demands.  There  is  the  Uni- 
versity, where  some  of  the  noblest  minds  o* 
Scotland  have  labored.  Here  splendid  hospi- 
tals rise  as  monuments  of  the  wealth  and  benev- 
olence of  former  citizens.  At  every  turn  some 
object  meets  the  eye  which  is  connected  with 
thrilling  memories  of  the  past. 


A    SABBATH    IN    EDINBURGH.  313 

In  this  city,  as  the  heart  of  Scotland,  was  the 
great  question  of  religious  freedom  decided.  It 
was  Knox,  and  Hamilton,  and.  the  noble  sons 
of  Scotland,  who  showed  to  England  and.  the 
world  that  no  power  could  bind  the  conscience, 
or  enslave  a  people  whom  the  truth  had  made 
free.  And  Scotland,  England,  and  America 
are  feeling  to-day  the  blessed  results  of  that 
great  battle  which  was  there  fought,  in  which 
intolerance  and  bigotry  were  made  to  yield  to 
men  who  loved  and  valued  the  liberty  of  the 
gospel.  Before  leaving  Edinburg,  I  cannot 
avoid  an  allusion  to  her  preachers.  Would  to 
God  our  whole  Church  was  filled  with  such 
men  as  I  heard  at  St.  Giles1,  at  the  hall  of  the 
Free  Kirk,  and  at  the  church  of  Dr.  Guthrie. 
Their  preaching  was  not  flash  and  glitter,  and 
wild  attempts  to  produce  a  sensation  at  all  haz- 
ards, but  earnest,  pungent,  faithful  exhibitions 
of  the  gospel.  And  crowds  listened  to  them, 
with  serious  and  fixed  attention.  A  Sabbath 
in  Edinburg  affords  a  strange  contrast  to  that 
on  the  continent.  All  busiuess  is  suspended; 
its  streets  are  quiet  as  the  country,  and  on  every 


314  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

hand,  as  the  church  bells  are  ringing,  may  be 
seen  throngs  of  worshippers  with  their  Bibles  in 
their  hands,  making  their  way  to  the  house  of 
God.  The  contrasts  of  virtue  and  vice  are  start- 
ling here,  and  appear  more  appalling,  because 
seen  in  a  land  where  virtue  and  order  and  piety 
predominate.  It  is  natural  that  they  who  are 
vicious  in  such  a  community  should  surpass 
those  who  sink  into  crime  under  circumstances 
less  favorable  to  good  morals.  But  we  must 
hasten  to  finish  our  view  of  Scotland.  Taking 
the  cars  for  the  north,  an  hour's  ride  brings  us 
to  Stirling.  Leaving  the  train,  and  turning  up 
the  rough  and  steep  streets  which  lead  to  the 
castle,  we  are  rewarded  with  one  of  the  noblest 
views  in  Scotland.  On  the  castle  grounds,  a 
fine  company  of  Scotch  Highlanders  are  under- 
going their  morning  drill,  to  the  shrill  music 
of  the  bagpipes.  As  we  approach  the  old  pal- 
ace, we  pass  under  the  window  from  which  the 
Earl  of  Douglass  was  thrown,  after  his  assassi- 
nation by  James  II.  In  yonder  armory  stands 
the  pulpit  of  John  Knox,  and  here  he  baptized 


STIRLING   CASTLE.  315 

the  infant  son  of  Mary.  Ascending  the  walls 
of  the  castle,  we  look  out  upon  a  scene  of 
almost  unparallelled  beauty  and  interest. 

To  the  west  rise  the  noble  Highlands  of  Ben- 
Lomond,  Benvenue,  and  Benledi.  To  the  east 
wind  the  lovely  waters  of  the  Frith  of  Forth, 
bordered  by  fertile  fields  and  meadows,  and 
beneath  us  sinks  away  from  our  feet  the  stu- 
j>endous  precipice  upon  which  the  castle  stands. 
Casting  our  eye  southward,  we  see  the  valley 
and  the  green  hillock  where  tournaments  were 
often  held,  and  beyond  this,  about  two  miles, 
is  the  illustrious  battle-ground  of  Bannockburn, 
where  Robert  Bruce,  with  30,000  men,  met 
and  overcame  Edward  II  with  100,000  soldiers. 
But  we  cannot  pause  amid  these  recollections. 
Here  around  this  ancient  church,  lingers  many 
a  glorious  memory  of  Scotland's  heroes.  That 
noble  statue  is  of  John  Knox,  and  that  is  the 
monument  of  Melville.  And  here  is  one  on 
which  stands  an  angel  with  a  scroll,  on  which  is 
inscribed  Isaiah  40 :  27 — 30 ;  and  then  is  added 
"Margaret,  Virgin-niartyr  of  the  ocean-wave, 
with   her   like-minded   sister   Agnes.     Scotia's 


316  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

daughters,  earnest  scan  the  page  and  prize  the 
flower  of  grace  blood  bought  for  you. — Psalm 
9:  19."  On  the  reverse  is  "Margaret  Wilson, 
of  Slenvernock."  This  is  the  touching  memo- 
rial of  a  young  Christian,  who  died  a  martyr  to 
her  faith,  and  a  victim  of  prelatic  arrogance  and 
bigotry  in  the  time  of  James  II  and  Claver- 
house.  For  her  simple  adherence  to  the  Pres- 
byterian Church,  she  was  tied  to  a  stake  at  low 
water-mark,  and  overwhelmed  by  the  returning 
tide. 

Passing  away  from  these  scenes  and  associa- 
tions, we  resume  our  seats  in  the  cars  for  Cal- 
lander and  the  Trossachs,  following  the  route 
which  Scott  has  immortalized  in  his  beautiful 
poem  of  the  Lady  of  Lake.  At  Callander  we 
take  seats  in  an  open  stage,  and  are  soon  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  romantic  scenery.  In  the 
northwest  rises  the  majestic  head  of  Benledi. 
On  our  left  the  river  Leith  winds  through  a 
lovely  valley,  bordered  by  the  woodland  slope 
of  the  hills  that  rise  on  either  hand. 

Skirting  the  border  of  the  beautiful  river 
Venachar,  we  reach  Coilantogle  Ford,  to  which 


THE    TROSACHS.  317 

spot  Roderick  Dim  conducted  Fitz  James,  and 
where,  having  fulfilled  his  promise,  he  exclaimed, 

"See!  here  all  vantageless  I  stand, 
Arm'd  like  thyself  with  single  brand, 
For  this  is  Coilantogle's  Ford, 
And  thou  must  keep  thee  with  thy  sword." 

At  this  point  Loch  Venachar  opens  before  us 
with  its  varied  scenes  of  beauty.  Passing  on- 
ward, we  leave  on  our  right  hand  a  collection 
of  rude  Highland  huts,  the  first  stage  of  the 
bearer  of  the  fiery  Cross  of  his  Clan,  the  blazing 
symbol  of  war  and  death. 

"  Duncraggan's  huts  appear  at  last, 
And  peep  like  moss-grown  rocks  half  seen, 
Half  hidden  in  the  copse  so  green." 

Still  beyond,  is  the  Brig  of  Turk,  and  then  the 
lovely  Loch  Achray,  and  then  as  we  hasten  on- 
ward, we  reach  the  Trosachs,  where  a  scene  of 
wondrous  beauty  and  romance  awaits  us.  They 
form  a  series  of  mountain  gorges,  made  up  of — 

"  Crags,  knolls,  and  mounds,  confus'dly  hurled, 
The  fragments  of  an  earlier  world." 

The  whole  scene  is  one  of  interest  and  beauty — 

"So  wondrous  wild  the  whole  might  seem 
The  scenery  of  a  fairy  dream." 


§18  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

Here  is  the  spot  where  the  horse  of  the  gallant 
Fitz  James  fell  and  died;  and  yonder  opens 
before  us  the  lovely  Loch  Katrine.  A  fairy- 
like steamer  has  returned  to  take  us  on  board, 
and  as  we  pass  a  wooded  promontory  the  whole 
lake  bursts  upon  our  sight.  Here  the  fair  Ellen 
first  saw  the  Knight  of  Snowdoun.  There  is 
her  island — 

"  Where  for  retreat  in  dangerous  hour, 
Some  chief  had  framed  a  rustic  bower." 

And  yonder  rises  Benvenue.  And  as  we  sail 
onward  by  cliff,  and  forest,  and  island,  and  hill, 
we  find  ourselves  again  re-peopling  these  scenes 
with  the  rude  clans  of  the  Highlands,  and  listen 
for  the  echoes  of  the  song  with  which  their 
leader  was  welcomed — 

"  Hail  to  the  chief  who  in  triumph  advances, 
Honored  and  blest  be  the  evergreen  pine, 
Long  may  the  tree  in  his  banner  that  glances, 
Flourish  the  shelter  and  grace  of  our  line." 

Resting  for  the  night  at  Stronachlachan 
Hotel,  we  rise  early  that  we  may  ascend  one 
of  the  lofty  hills  that  overlook  the  lake,  and 
pluck   a   bunch    of  heather   from   its  summit. 


LOCH    LOMOND.  319 

Resuming  our  route  by  stage,  we  pass  through 
the  wild  and  desolate  region  where  Rob  Roy 
had  his  haunts,  and  see  the  hut  where  Helen 
M'Gregor  was  born,  and  reaching  at  length  the 
highest  elevation  on  our  route,  descend  by  the 
side  of  a  rushing  torrent  to  the  margin  of  the 
far-famed  Loch  Lomond.  This  lake  is  justly 
the  pride  of  Scotland,  with  its  beautiful  islands, 
its  bold  headlands,  and  its  lofty  mountains. 
That  vast  mass  of  rocks,  with  an  opening 
scarcely  visible,  is  Rob  Roy's  cave ;  and  yonder 
is  a  rude  pulpit  where  the  people  often  gather 
for  worship  in  the  open  air.  As  we  pass  on, 
Ben  Lomond  rises  3,192  feet  above  the  sea,  and 
on  every  hand  are  wild  and  bare  mountains 
and  cliffs,  whose  deep  shadows  rest  gently  upon 
these  now  peaceful  waters. 

At  the  foot  of  the  lake  the  cars  are  awaiting 
our  arrival,  and,  whirling  us  on  towards  the 
Clyde,  we  look  up  at  Dunbarton  Castle,  where 
Wallace  was  a  prisoner,  and  whose  command- 
ing elevation  makes  it  one  of  the  landmarks  of 
the  river ;  and  then,  turning  upwards  towards 
Glasgow,  we  are,  in  an  hour's  time,  landed  m 


320  IMTRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

the  very  heart  of  the  city.  Glasgow,  while  it 
does  not  possess  the  historic  interest  or  the 
wild  romantic  beauty  of  Edinburgh,  is  yet 
greatly  its  superior  in  commercial  importance. 
It  bears  every  mark  of  a  prosperous  and  grow- 
ing city.  The  modern  part  of  the  town  is 
beautifully  laid  out,  and  built  up  with  substan- 
tial dwellings  and  churches.  One  of  the  noblest 
antiquities  is  the  venerable  Cathedral,  now  used 
for  worship  by  a  congregation  of  the  Establish- 
ed Kirk.  In  one  of  its  vaults  is  laid  the  scene 
of  the  mysterious  meeting  between  Rob  Roy 
and  Osbaldistone.  Its  interior  presents  a  fine 
specimen  of  Gothic  architecture.  Just  across  a 
ravine,  through  which  flows  a  small  stream,  and 
over  which  is  thrown  the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  is 
the  Necropolis,  one  of  the  finest  cemeteries  in 
Europe.  Upon  the  summit  is  the  noble  monu- 
ment and  statue  of  John  Knox,  and  scattered 
over  the  sacred  enclosure  are  the  statues  of 
many  of  Scotland's  distinguished  men.  Every 
part  of  Glasgow  shows  life,  and  energy,  and  in- 
dustry. The  old  parts  of  the  city,  with  their 
close  and  narrow  streets,  are  densely  populated, 


DUMFRIES.  321 

chiefly  by  the  lower  classes,  among  whom  the 
prevailing  fashion  of  both  sexes  seems  to  be 
bare  feet.  I  think  it  safe  to  say,  here  can  be 
seen  more  women  without  shoes  or  stockings 
than  in  any  other  city  in  Europe. 

The  scenery  around  Glasgow  is  beautiful,  as, 
indeed,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  point  in 
Scotland  where  it  is  not.  Taking  the  cars 
southward,  and  skirting  Ayrshire,  with  its 
gentle  hills  and  valleys,  and  the  home  of  Burns 
— now  made  ever  memorable  by  his  genius  and 
his  song, — we  pass  on  towards  Dumfries,  to 
spend  a  day  in  the  midst  of  scenes  and  friends, 
which  will  long  dwell  in  our  hearts.  One  must 
go  to  Scotland  to  fully  understand  what  is 
meant  by  a  Scotch  welcome.  We  found  it  in 
Dumfries.  A  single  note  of  introduction  opened 
to  us  the  warm  greetings  and  kindness  of  Rev. 
Dr.  Wallace  and  his  family,  with  whom  we 
spent  the  last  day  we  were  to  be  in  Scotland, 
and  introduced  us  to  such  scenes  as  Burns  de- 
scribes in  his  u  Cotter's  Saturday  Night :" 

"  From  which  Auld  Scotia's  grandeurs  rise." 

We  were  delighted    with  Dumfries.     Every 
15 


322  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

way  we  turned,  we  met  with  some  object  of 
interest.  Here  Burns  lived,  and  in  yonder 
churchyard,  just  opposite  the  manse,  is  his 
tomb,  with  a  beautiful  bas-relief  of  the  poet  at 
the  plough,  from  which  the  genius  of  Scotland 
is  calling  him  away.  Here,  too,  in  that  vener- 
able church-yard,  are  the  tombs  of  many  a 
martyr  who  died  for  the  faith.  Over  yonder 
bridge,  across  the  Nith,  lies  Maxweltown,  on 
whose  bonny  braes  lived  Annie  Lowrie,  the 
heroine  of  a  pleasant  Scotch  song.  The  Solway, 
which  is  at  times  fordable,  and  then  navigable, 
and  on  whose  beautiful  banks  we  are  now  rid- 
ing, brings  to  our  minds  the  young  Lochinvar, 
and  his  words  to  the  father  of  his  fair  lady  : 

"  I  long  loved  your  daughter — my  suit  you  denied ; 
Love  flows  like  the  Solway,  but  ebbs  like  its  tide." 

By  the  side  of  yonder  lovely  stream  are  the 
ruins  of  an  ancient  monastery,  and  the  scene 
just  there  is  one  of  picturesque  beauty,  that 
causes  it  to  dwell  distinctly  in  the  memory. 

But  we  must  bid  farewell  to  these  scenes  and 
to  Scotland.  A  short  ride  brings  us  to  Gretna, 
where  for  years  the  famous  blacksmith  united 


THE    LAND    OF    HEROES.  323 

the  runaway  couples  from  England,  but  whose 
occupation  is  gone  since  the  new  law  regulating 
marriages.  The  train  hurries  onward,  and  we 
are  borne  away  with  sad  hearts  from  the  land 
of  heroes  and  of  genius,  and  the  home  of  liberty 
and  a  pure  faith.  We  look  back  upon  that 
glorious  country,  and  heartily  exclaim,  "God 
bless  Scotland  for  all  that  she  has  been  and  all 
that  she  is."  Who  cannot  love  the  land  of 
Wallace  and  Bruce,  of  Knox  and  Melville  and 
Moray,  of  Scott  and  Burns,  of  Chalmers  and 
M'Cheyne?  Who  will  not  honor  a  nation 
whose  sons  have  distinguished  themselves  in 
the  strife  for  liberty  and  truth,  in  the  walks  of 
science  and  literature,  in  the  State  and  Church  ? 
And  when  from  her  hills  and  valleys,  her  cities 
and  hamlets,  her  children  come  to  the  shores  of 
the  Western  Republic,  they  shall  find  a  broth- 
er's welcome  from  those  who  have  learned  to 
love  and  value  that  freedom  whose  battles  were 
fought  in  Scotland  amid  the  scenes  of  the  Refor- 
mation, and  whose  institutions  are  best  typified 
in  the  Church  for  whose  order  and  faith  that 


324  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

people  contended  with  an  earnestness  that  no- 
thing could  successfully  resist. 

But  we  must  pass  away  from  these  scenes. 
Midnight  brings  us  to  Liverpool— to  our  old 
pleasant  quarters  at  the  Victoria  Hotel.  We 
spent  a  Sabbath  there,  and  in  our  lack  of  infor- 
mation respecting  churches,  selected  from  the 
directory  the  Oldham  Street  Scotch  Church, 
knowing  that  we  should  have  sound  doctrine, 
whether  preached  with  eloquence  or  not.  We 
were  not  disappointed,  and  listened  to  a  faithful 
and  earnest  discourse  from  the  pastor,  Rev.  Mr. 
Forfar,  by  whose  invitation  I  occupied  the  pul- 
pit in  the  afternoon,  and  with  whom  I  attended 
a  children's  meeting  in  the  evening,  and  was 
greatly  delighted  with  their  familiarity  with 
the  Bible  and  Catechism — the  two  books  on 
which  a  Scotch  Presbyterian  is  brought  up,  and 
which  have  much  to  do  with  his  character  and 
steadfastness  to  the  faith. 

Liverpool,  while  it  is  a  city  of  great  import- 
ance as  a  commercial  centre,  has  but  little  to 
interest  the   traveller   beyond   its   magnificent 


DUBLIN.  325 

docks  and  business  arrangements.  A  little  out 
of  the  city  there  is,  however,  a  Zoological  Gar- 
den, which,  in  the  summer  season,  is  a  favorite 
resort.  An  hour's  ride  in  the  cars  brings  us  to 
Chester,  an  ancient  and  venerable  town,  with  a 
magnificent  cathedral  of  great  antiquity.  Pass- 
ing westward,  we  are  skirting  the  wild  moun- 
tains of  Wales,  and  looking  out  upon  the  ever 
changing  beauties  of  that  region.  The  cele- 
brated Menai  Bridge,  now,  however,  wholly 
outdone  by  the  new  Victoria  Bridge  at  Mon- 
treal, we  pass  on  this  route,  and  then  hurrying 
on  by  the  sand-hills  of  Anglesea,  we  reach 
Holyhead,  where  large  works  are  now  in  pro- 
gress for  the  improvement  of  the  harbor.  A 
rough  passage  of  six  hours,  with  a  cabin  full  of 
passengers  in  every  stage  of  sea-sickness,  brings 
us  to  Kingstown,  whence  we  are  carried  into 
Dublin  by  the  cars,  and  are  soon  at  a  hotel 
spending  our  first  night  in  Ireland. 

Dublin  deserves  all  that  is  said  of  it  as  a  fine 
city.  Few  streets  in  Europe  can  rival  its  far- 
famed  Sackville  street,  with  its  noble  monu- 
ments,  its   substantial   houses,    and   its   broad 


326  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

pavements  and  side-walks.  Its  university,  its 
hospitals,  its  various  churches,  and  public  edi- 
fices, are  finely  built,  and  on  every  side  there 
is  an  air  of  wealth,  and  taste,  and  comfort, 
which  is  exceedingly  pleasant  and  attractive. 
We  took  a  short  but  delightful  excursion  down 
into  the  county  of  Wicklow,  filled  with  scenes 
of  exquisite  beauty,  and  although  strangers,  we 
found  ourselves  in  pleasant  converse  with  that 
model  of  his  kind,  an  Irish  gentleman.  It  was 
amid  the  scenes  of  this  county  that  Moore  wrote 
his  beautiful  song,  "  The  Meeting  of  the  Waters." 
Retracing  our  steps,  we  enter  the  cars  for 
Cork,  and  are  taken  through  the  very  coun- 
try from  which  are  imported  the  largest  class 
of  the  Irish  population  that  reach  our  shores. 
Many  a  long  and  dreary  moor  is  passed,  with 
peat-bogs  and  Irish  mud-cabins,  with  the  very 
cows,  and  pigs,  and  chickens,  and  half-naked 
children,  and  bare-footed  womqn,  and  men  with 
pipes,  and  shillalahs,  and  brogans,  that  we  find 
squatting  upon  the  outskirts  of  our  cities — at 
length  finding  their  way  to  our  polls  and  pub- 
lic offices.     Emerging  from  this  region,  which 


CORK    AND    QUEENSTOWN.  327 

is  not  well  calculated  to  impress  one  favorably 
with  Ireland,  we  come  out  into  scenes  whose 
striking  contrast  doubtless  adds  to  their  beauty. 
Down  in  yonder  lovely  valley,  with  swelling 
hills  beyond,  stands  the  far-famed  Blarney  Cas- 
tle, in  whose  tower  is  the  stone  which  imparts 
eloquence  to  the  tongues  of  all  who  kiss  it. 
Every  new  scene,  as  we  now  hasten  onward, 
has  some  fresh  charm,  and  makes  us  regret  that 
we  cannot  linger  amid  so  much  that  is  pictur- 
esque and  beautiful. 

But  here  is  Cork,  and  these  crowds  that  we 
see  around,  are  unmistakably  Irish.  And  so  is 
the  company  on  the  steamer  to  Queenstown, 
even  to  the  woman  who  sells  us  a  pint  of  plums, 
with  the  very  accent  and  look  of  the  orange- 
women  that  offer  us  their  commodities  at  the 
wharf  and  railroad  stations  at  home.  We  are 
charmed  with  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  river 
down  which  we  are  sailing.  The  eye  is  en- 
gaged every  moment  with  the  opening  glories 
of  some  new  scene,  with  island,  and  headlands, 
villas  of  exquisite  taste,  and  well-cultivated 
farms,  and   hills  crowned  with  broad-spreading 


328  IMPRESSIONS    ABKOAD. 

trees,  and  cottages  which  stand  "beneath  them. 
At  Queenstown  we  have  a  noble  harbor  shel- 
tered by  two  islands,  and  which  is  now  yearly 
becoming  more  and  more  important  to  the  com- 
merce of  Ireland.  We  were  detained  here  a 
day  beyond  our  time,  and  after  looking  over 
every  part  of  the  town,  tried  to  get  a  sight  of 
the  country  by  means  of  an  Irish  jaunting-car, 
a  one-horse  vehicle,  the  very  reverse  of  an  om- 
nibus, placing  the  passengers  back  to  back, 
with  their  feet  over  the  wheels.  ATe  would 
advise  nervous,  timid,  and  sulky  persons  to  keep 
out  of  such  a  conveyance.  As  to  the  fust  of 
these,  there  is  every  apparent  probability  that 
as  the  driver  spins  round  a  corner  at  full  speed, 
the  natural  law  of  centrifugal  motion  will  send 
the  luckless  passengers  on  to  the  side-walk  or 
down  the  hill,  while  as  to  the  latter  class,  a 
jaunting-car  is  utterly  and  hopelessly  inconsis- 
tent with  all  gravity,  and  a  sour- vinegar- faced 
individual  would  seem  as  little  at  home  in  such 
a  conveyance  as  a  tragic  actor  in  a  farce.  You 
cannot  ride  in  one  without  laughing,  and  when 
you  see  one  loaded  down  with  merry  Irish  girk 


A    JAUNTING-CAR.  329 

full  of  fun  and  good  humor,  or  a  company  of 
Irishmen  all  alive  with  wit,  jollity,  and  merri- 
ment, you  have  a  most  respectful  appreciation 
of  an  Irish  jaunting-car.  But  the  time  has 
come  for  us  to  bid  farewell  to  these  scenes. 
We  regretted  that  we  could  not  have  seen  more 
of  Ireland.  We  saw  enough  to  make  us  de- 
sirous to  linger  longer  here.  We  wonder  not 
that  the  Irishman  loves  his  green  isle.  The 
poor,  priest-ridden  and  ignorant  people  who 
come  hither  from  that  fair  land,  are  not  the 
class  by  whom  we  are  to  judge  of  its  character. 
There  is  talent,  and  genius,  and  learning,  and 
eloquence  there,  which  command  the  respect  of 
the  world.  May  God  continue  His  own  work 
amid  that  people,  until  the  sources  of  error  and 
degradation  shall  be  dried,  and  Ireland  redeem- 
ed and  regenerated,  take  her  proper  place  in 
the  scale  of  truth,  and  science,  and  liberty, 
and  religion.  But  the  gun  of  the  steamer  is 
echoing  over  the  waters — the  signal  for  our  de- 
parture. We  step  on  board  a  small  tug-boat, 
and  are  soon  set  off  upon  the  good  ship  Kanga- 
roo, Captain  Jeffray.  A  few  hours,  and  we 
15* 


330  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

have  passed  by  the  beautiful  and  romantic  coast 
of  Ireland,  with  its  cliffs,  its  deep  caverns,  its 
venerable  ruins  of  castles  and  towers,  and  are 
rocking  upon  the  swelling  waters  of  the  open  sea, 
and  the  burden  of  our  song  is  "  Home  Again." 

It  is  but  an  act  of  common  justice,  as  well  as 
a  most  pleasing  duty,  to  speak  of  the  line  of 
steamers  in  which  we  both  went  and  returned. 
While  the  rates  of  fare  are  less  by  nearly  one- 
half  than  those  charged  in  the  other  lines  to 
Europe,  the  accommodations  are  fully  equal  to 
theirs,  and  Captains  Petrie  and  Jeffray,  with 
their  officers,  are  noble  specimens  both  of  sailors 
and  gentlemen,  and  know  well  how  to  make 
their  passengers  comfortable  and  happy.  We 
found  on  the  Kangaroo  a  large  company,  with 
the  usual  variety  of  characters  met  with  on  a 
steamer.  Among  them  were  my  young  friend 
Mr.  Prime,  from  whom  I  had  parted  at  Lake 
Luzerne  on  his  way  over  the  Alps,  and  the  Irish 
delegation,  Drs.  Edgar,  Dill,  and  Wilson,  who, 
after  a  successful  visit  to  our  country,  have  re- 
turned home  in  the  Edinburgh,  to  which  vessel 
Captain  Jeffray  had   been   transferred. 


HOMEWARD    BOUND.  331 

Oar  passage  homeward  was  the  entire  reverse 
of  the  outward  hound.  Head- winds,  heavy- 
seas,  severe  gales,  close-reefed  top-sails,  storm 
stay-sails,  and  such  like  nautical  phrases,  de- 
scriptive of  rough  weather,  found  their  way 
almost  daily  into  the  log-book.  I  had  always 
wished  to  see  a  storm  on  the  Atlantic,  and  I 
confess  when  I  got  into  it,  I  heartily  wished 
myself  out  of  it. 

It  is  a  wild  and  awful  scene,  a  stupendous 
evidence  of  the  majesty  and  power  of  Him  who 
holds  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand. 
Gradually,  as  the  wind  freshens  and  hauls 
around  into  the  stormy  quarters,  the  ship  is  put 
in  trim  for  the  battle  of  the  elements.  High 
up  upon  the  masts,  and  hanging  out  upon  the 
spars  that  are  already  tracing  long  segments  of 
circles  against  the  sky,  the  hardy  sailors  are 
engaged  in  reefing  the  sails,  and  making  all 
close  and  tight.  As  the  wind  increases,  the 
spars  are  swung  round  toward  it  to  offer  as 
little  resistance  as  possible  to  its  awful  power. 
And  now  you  can  do  nothing  but  watch  and 
Avait    for   the   issue.     Steadily  and    firmly  the 


332  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

great  heart  of  this  iron  monster  keeps  up  its 
pulsations,  and  the  ship  without  a  sail  nobly 
breasts  the  foaming  billows.  As  the  storm  ad- 
vances, the  ocean  rises  under  its  fury,  until  the 
waves  and  the  gale  are  at  their  height.  As  the 
eye  glances  across  this  wild  and  fearful  waste  of 
waters,  it  looks  like  some  Alpine  scene,  when 
the  wind  catches  up  the  spray,  like  drifting 
snow,  and  bears  it  across  the  sea  and  drives  it 
over  the  ship,  and  sends  it  flying  in  thick  scuds 
above  the  spars  of  the  vessel. 

And  then  as  you  stand  and  watch  the  mo- 
tions of  the  ship,  it  seems  as  if  she  were  instinct 
with  life,  and  struggling  like  a  living  being 
amid  that  war  of  elements.  As  for  a  moment 
she  rises  upon  the  top  of  a  wave,  she  seems  to 
pause  and  tremble  as  she  looks  towards  that 
chasm  into  which  she  is  to  descend,  and  where 
gradually  she  settles  down,  and  as  you  look 
above  you  at  the  dark  waves  which  surround 
you  like  a  vast  wall,  you  are  so  subdued  and 
attracted  by  the  sublimity  and  grandeur  of  the 
scene,  as  to  lose  all  sense  of  fear  in  emotions  of 
wonder  and  admiration.     But  let  us  go  below. 


A    STORM    AT    SEA.  333 

You  pass  in  the  companion-way  a  group  of  mis- 
erable-looking objects,  whose  faces  indicate  the 
last  and  most  hopeless  stages  of  sea-sickness. 
Waiters  are  busy  supplying  the  demand  for 
brandy,  oat-meal  gruel,  lemons,  and  all  the  vari- 
ous prescriptions  for  the  invalids.  Unhappy 
individuals  who  look  as  if  their  last  friend  had 
gone,  are  staggering  to  the  side  of  the  ship  for 
purposes  too  well  known  to  need  a  description. 
Occasionally,  as  the  vessel  reels  and  pitches, 
the  crowd  are  thrown  promiscuously  together, 
and  they  are  only  able  to  recover  themselves, 
when  a  second  lurch  tumbles  them  as  uncere- 
moniously into  another  pile  of  extemporaneous 
acrobats. 

In  the  cabin  things  are  no  better.  A  ghastly 
and  miserable  group  are  trying  the  same  hope- 
less experiment  of  keeping  and  sitting  quiet. 
Waiters  are  busy  preparing  the  tables  for  din- 
ner. Sometimes,  as  a  sea  breaks  over  the  ves- 
sel, there  is  a  crash  of  falling  crockery  and  a 
rush  of  water  through  the  sky-lights  and  com- 
panion-way, and  a  momentary  pause  as  the  ship 
quivers  and  shakes,  and  then  hurries  on  again  in 


334  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

lier  noble  Struggle  with  the  winds  and  waves.  At 
length  the  eight  bells  strike,  and  then  the  stew- 
ard's bell  sends  its  summons  for  dinner.  With 
many  the  steam  and  odor  are  enough.  Others 
stagger  their  way  to  the  table.  It  requires  no 
little  skill  to  adjust  matters  there  to  any  degree 
of  comfort  and  safety.  Soup  plates  are  tilted 
up  on  the  edges  of  the  guards  and  then  held 
carefully  with  the  left  hand.  Meats  and  gravies 
are  watched  with  a  jealous  eye.  and  unless  held 
in  their  place  by  main  strength,  when  an  un- 
lucky lurch  of  the  ship  happens,  will  be  de- 
posited in  the  lap  of  some  luckless  passenger, 
and,  even  with  the  utmost  diligence,  the  whole 
service  of  the  table  often  indicates  an  evident 
inclination  to  jump  over  on  to  the  floor.  A 
hungry  man  in  a  storm  at  sea  is,  on  the  whole, 
a  pleasant  specimen  of  one  in  the  pursuit  of  a 
dinner  under  difficulties.  But  the  hour  for 
sleep  comes,  and  we  must  enter  those  close  and 
restricted  apartments  called  state-rooms.  You 
mav  imacrine  what  evolutions  are  essential  to 
reach  your  berth,  especially  if  it  happens  to  be 
on  the  windward  side  of  the  ship.     You  attempt 


A   NIGHT    IN    A   STORM.  335 

to  draw  off  a  boot;  just  as  it  lias  started  you 
are  compelled  to  dance  a  reel  across  the  room, 
and  finish  by  pitching  into  your  neighbor's  berth 
head  first.  Recovering  yourself,  and  waiting 
until  the  ship  is  on  an  even  keel,  you  finish  your 
boot  and  attempt  your  coat.  Just  as  your*  arms 
are  pinioned  by  your  sleeves  behind  you,  an- 
other lurch  breaks  open  your  door,  tears  away 
your  trunks  and  carpet-bags,  and  sends  you 
spinning  against  the  side  of  the  room.  When 
at  length,  bruised  and  breathless,  you  are  ready 
to  enter  your  berth,  you  have  to  climb  up  the 
sides  of  a  movable  precipice,  and,  waiting  for  a 
favorable  moment  to  reach  your  bed,  spring 
into  your  place  of  rest.  During  this  operation, 
you  will  probably  raise  several  new  phrenological 
developments  upon  your  head,  and  nearly  dislo- 
cate a  shoulder,  besides  receiving  several  minor 
contusions,  which,  anywhere  but  on  ship-board, 
would  need  the  aid  of  a  surgeon.  But  if  you 
think  your  troubles  are  now  over,  you  are  sorely 
mistaken.  You  find  a  most  frightful  inclination 
of  your  body  to  follow  the  tendencies  of  gravi- 
tation, and  must  call  the  steward  to  box  you  in 


336  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

with  a  lee-board,  against  which  you  are  rolling 
with  every  lurch  of  the  ship.  And  then  as  the 
vessel  heaves  and  pitches,  you  are  standing 
alternately  on  your  heels  and  your  head,  and 
rolling  like  an  infant  in  its  cradle,  from  the 
right  to  the  left,  from  your  back  to  your  face. 
Thus  the  night  is  passed,  and  the  morning 
brings  a  renewal  of  your  last  evening's  troubles, 
ten  times  more  aggravated,  especially  if  you  feel 
obliged  to  go  through  the  operation  of  shaving. 
With  such  an  experience,  your  first  wonder  will 
be  how  any  sane  man,  who  has  a  cottage  any- 
where on  land,  and  enough  to  feed  and  clothe 
him,  can  ever  choose  the  sea  for  his  home.  And 
your  second  reflection  will  be,  that  if  any  class 
of  men  deserve  the  respect  and  sympathy  and 
prayers  of  the  world,  it  is  the  hardy  sons  of  the 
sea. 

But  pleasant  weather  comes,  and  the  sick 
ones  crawl  out  upon  deck,  and  the  perils  and 
discomforts  of  the  storm  are  forgotten  in  the 
invigorating  air  and  the  splendid  scenes  of  the 
ocean.  All  kinds  of  amusements  are  tried.  A 
few  wits  publish  a  paper;  others,  who  are  nm- 


SEA   AMUSEMENTS.  337 

sically  inclined,  entertain  a  group  upon  the 
deck,  or  in  the  cabin,  with  all  kinds  of  songs, 
from  "  A  Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave,"  to  u  Widow 
Machree,"  or  "  Vilikins  and  his  Dinah."  Others, 
walk  the  deck  or  play  at  shuffle-board,  or  check- 
ers, and  fill  up  the  intervals  of  time  with  eat- 
ing, drinking,  and  sleejring.  Our  evenings  are 
varied  by  concerts  and  lectures,  in  which  last 
Dr.  Edgar  and  his  brethren,  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Scott,  of  the  Episcopal  Mission  to  Africa,  enter- 
tained our  company  with  much  valuable  infor- 
mation. The  monotony  of  our  voyage  was 
somewhat  varied  by  a  visit  to  Halifax,  where 
we  had  put  in  to  replenish  our  coals,  which  had 
nearly  been  exhausted  by  our  protracted  pas- 
sage. 

On  the  Sabbath,  religious  services  were  held — 
the  Captain  reading  the  Episcopal  liturgy,  and 
one  of  the  clergymen  preaching  a  sermon.  We 
shall  not  soon  forget  the  pleasant  scenes  of  the 
three  Sabbaths  we  spent  on  our  voyage  home- 
ward— the  serious  attention  which  was  bestow- 
ed upon  the  religious  exercises,  and  the  delight- 
ful  meetings   for    prayer,    in   which    so   many 


338  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

united,  and  by  which  they  were  gladdened  and 
refreshed. 

The  last  Sabbath  evening  was  one  of  special 
interest.  It  was  spent  in  narrating  and  lis- 
tening to  the  history  of  the  revivals  in  America 
and  Ireland,  and  although  the  storm  without 
was  beating  fiercely  upon  us,  in  that  cabin  a 
cheerful  and  happy  group  of  Christians  were 
committing  themselves  and  all  they  held  dear, 
to  God — and  speaking  and  hearing  of  all  His 
mighty  acts  of  grace  and  love.  The  next  day 
brought  us  in  sight  of  home,  and  never  did  it 
appear  so  lovely  as  when  we  steamed  up  the 
harbor  of  New  York  after  an  absence  of  four 
months  and  a-half,  and  never  did  we  feel  more 
loudly  called  upon  for  devout  gratitude  to  God 
than  when  we  saw  upon  the  shore  a  part  of  our 
own  family,  and  heard,  ere  yet  we  reached  the 
land,  that  parents  and  children,  the  loved  ones 
from  whom  we  had  been  separated,  and  after 
whom  had  gone  forth  many  a  longing  wish  and 
earnest  prayer,  were  safe  and  well.  None  but 
he  who  has  thus  been  separated  from  all  that 
make  up  for  him  the  precious  name  of  home; 


HOME    AGAIN.  339 

who  has  dreamed  of  the  absent  amid  ocean 
storms,  and  in  foreign  lands  ;  who  has  some- 
times feared  that  sickness  or  death  might,  per- 
ad  venture,  be  busy  with  their  fearful  work 
around  his  fireside,  and  who  has  approached 
the  shores  of  his  native  country  with  a  beating 
and  anxious  heart,  can  tell  the  joy  and  grati- 
tude which  we  felt  as  we  folded  to  our  hearts 
our  children,  and  knew  that  all  was  well. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  reproduce  the 
scenes  through  which  it  has  been  my  privilege 
to  pass.  If  I  have  afforded  profit  or  pleasure 
to  any ;  if  any  have  been  led  to  love  and  value 
America  the  more,  and  to  feel,  as  I  do,  that  it 
is  the  best  and  dearest  land  on  which  the  sun 
shines;  if  I  have  induced  any  to  think  more 
kindly,  and  with  a  warmer  sympathy  for  the 
sailor;  if  I  have  been  the  means  of  adding  in 
any  mind  to  its  stores  of  knowledge,  or  have  in 
the  least  degree  promoted  the  interest  and 
prosperity  of  this  Church  to  which,  with  God's 
aid,  my  constant  and  earnest  efforts  shall  be 
given,  my  labor  has  not  been  in  vain.  Let  me 
but  express  the  hope  that,  by  God's  grace,  all 


340  IMPRESSIONS    ABROAD. 

who  now  hear  me  may  have  Christ  for  their 
pilot  over  this  great  ocean  of  life,  until  they 
shall  find  rest  in  that  haven  where  there  are  no 
more  storms,  and  in  that  land  where  there  shall 
be  no  more  sea. 


D919.R68 

Scenes  and  impressions  abroad. 

.m^1.""'?,!1.!^01091031  Semmary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  00021   8182 


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